Live the Dream
by Miss Spiritual Slut
Summary: It was love at first sight. It was a bumpy road to go through; It was his dream that got them together. It was her dream that tore them apart. Literati
1. 2008 Prelude

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better.

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**2008**

He sat on the stairs, looking around. It all seemed so familiar, but so distant. 

He looked backwards, then. He loved the way it looked. Just like it looked before 

His dream came true. Finally, it came true. He managed to get what he always wanted. And he was happy. Truly happy.

Except for the part of him that was always kept down. The place in his heart that shut down years ago, and could never be opened again. The thing that was missing, and will never be found.

He stood up. He gave up on trying to move on years ago. Stepping towards the door, he opened it, having it meet the doorstopper, which was fixed on the ground. He leaned against the doorframe and sighed. 

Always the same dream. Always the same outcome.


	2. 2001 Reads That Way

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better.

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**2001**

It was less hot than it was in any other day this week. Less hot than it was supposed to be in the middle of the summer in New York City. 

The dim light didn't cause him feel like he's melting. Actually, it made the place feel warmer. And not only the temperature.

The store was like a home to him. A second home. Actually, it was more of a home to him than his house was. Ever since his mother, Liz, died six years ago. Ever since his father, Jimmy, was rushed into a hospital after having a heart attack a couple of weeks before.

His house felt different. Colder. Like it wasn't even his anymore. It was... Hers.

Sasha. His stepmother. The two-faced monster whom his father married almost four years ago. Right from the moment she worked her dark charms on his surprisingly naive dad, everything that formerly belonged to his family became her property. Not officially, no, but she made it seem like it was.

She had a daughter. She wasn't as nauseating and horrible as her mom was, but she had her moments. Lily. She was about his age, maybe a year or so younger. She was too bound in her mom's constant brainwash to care about anything else.

His dad owned a store. A bookstore. It was quite big. It was heaven for him. It was a haven for him. It inspired his passion for writing, for creating a scenario in his head and expressing it on paper.

Ever since he was a young boy, his dad brought him there. First it was to hang out as he worked, while his mom was trying to catch up with all the college years she missed to have and raise him. Then, when he got older, he unofficially hired him to help him around, especially when Jimmy needed support not only in business matters. 

Now, he had to cover for his dad as the owner of the store as he was at the hospital. He barely even had the time to visit him, since Jimmy insisted that the store and its profits of the store are more important than little visits.

Honestly, he didn't love it the way he did before. Before people were so hooked on anything that included not much brainwork and hot chicks in thongs. Not that he didn't appreciate chicks in thongs. As a guy, he had to appreciate chicks in thongs. 

But it just... It disturbed him. He missed the days when the kids that went in the store bought something else besides Harry Potter books. He didn't care about the money loss the store would suffer if they stopped selling them. He just wanted people to read **real** literature every once in a while. Not only the kind that they've previously seen in the movie theater.

The sound of a young kid's voice interrupted his trail of thoughts. He tore himself away from his book, which he was barely into anyway, and turned his attention to the figure, which was holding - How surprisingly - a Harry Potter book. 

He sighed as he reached to grab it, shoving it inside the plain "Mariano's" bag as the kid placed the money on the counter. He sighed again as he organized the money in the cash register. 

These poor kids, he thought to himself, wasting all their money on this month's 'Big Thing'. They'll probably read it once and hurl it out the window when the time will come. He could've recommended them two much better books in the same price. Same outraged price.

The kid thanked him as he left the store with a big grin of his lips. Jess replied quietly with a small smile that faded as soon as the door closed behind him. 

He reached back for the book and tried to open it with help from the bookmark that he placed in there. But it turned out that he didn't. He opened the book impatiently, silently cursing himself for not paying attention for last page he read, or even the last words he paid attention to. He passed and scanned through page after page after page, without any luck.

He slammed the book to the counter with frustration, then reached his hand to search underneath the counter, hoping he left something good in there, or that his father left him some worthy reading material like he usually did. 

But there was nothing there. He bended down, letting his eyes shift to every dark place he might possibly find a book in.

He was engrossed in searching. So engrossed, that he didn't hear the door open and shut once again.

"Is anyone in there?" A feminine voice called, and he jumped up, saying "Hi".

She jumped, startled, as he popped out from behind the counter. She laughed nervously as she saw him and raised her hands, holding them to her heart, taking a deep breath. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi." He echoed, straightening his blouse. "Sorry." He apologized with a half-smile, seeing how scared she seemed for a moment.

"It's okay." She replied, still laughing, nodding her head to the sound of her own voice.

"I... Didn't know there was anyone in here." He tried to justify himself, matching her nervous laugh with his own nervous laugh.

"It's okay," She repeated, "Neither did I."

"Good." He replied, trying to catch his breath after wasting most of it on the laughter he forced.

"Yeah." She looked at him and said coyly, folding her arms. 

He coughed, not knowing really what to do, as she tried to release herself from her embarrassing behavior by looking around. 

He followed her slim figure with his hazel eyes, hoping the girl's choices wouldn't be as expected as he feared.

"You need any help?" He asked, tilting himself to the side in order to get a closer look at the pile of books she was bending to search through.

"No thanks." She smiled while reading the back cover of a book that caught her eye, not taking her eyes off of it.

"Don't need directions to the Harry Potter shelf, do you?" He asked humorly but with a hint of seriousness, raising an eyebrow.

She rested the book back in its place as she cast a confused, narrow-eyed glance at him. "Harry Potter?"

"For yourself, for the kids, for the nieces and nephews?" He continued, now raising both of his eyebrows.

She chuckled in reply. "If I had any," She emphasized, "I think I'd prefer if they read something that got where it is now because of a movie." She took another book, turning it to examine its back cover.

"Something low-profile?" He asked as a smile creeped to his lips. 

"Yeah." She agreed, moving to check another shelf.

He nodded in agreement, expressing his similar opinion with a sole motion. He kept watching her as she browsed through the store, collecting some items in her now busy hands.

She eventually walked up to the counter, resting her heavy book baggage on it. He enjoyably skimmed through the books she picked, recalling the points in his life when he got to read them. He found it awkward to believe how young he was when he read some of them and how surprisingly easy they were for him to analyze. He blindly remembered the notes he wrote in the margins, his thoughts, his feelings. It was the easiest thing in the world. His mind always roamed when it came to literature. And he was glad it did.

"Thank you." He pleasantly greeted as he handed her the bags - Not one, not two, not three - bags, "Come again soon." He added with a smile.

She took the bag in her hand and smiled back. "I'll try." She said, her tone of voice reflecting how she wholeheartedly meant what she said. 

He kept watching her as she slowly turned around and walked away from the store, into the street. 

Just as she did, someone else came it. But he was too floating to notice, even as his head was turned to the direction of the door. His mind was someone else. His mind was inside one of the bags he handed her, with her.

"Jess?"

He was confused. That girl made him confused. He had no idea why, but she tied him up. To himself, to her clearly unintentional charms. Maybe it was the fact that she was the only person in the last week that bought something else than Hairy Plotter books. Maybe it was just her. She was pretty. She was more than pretty. She had these amazing blue eyes that... It was like...

"Whoohoo! Jesse boy!"

An ocean. An ocean. And he felt like drowning inside of it. He was pretty sure it was the first time he didn't remember a girl because of her boobs. He wasn't attracted to her. At least, not in his usual way. 

He also hated assisting. But assisting her was...

"Your hair is on fire!"

He snapped out of his thought trail at the mention of his hair on fire. Stupidly reaching to check it, he narrowed her eyes, then threw his hand down with a sigh. "Lane." He should have known.

"Seems that way." She nodded, walking towards the counter, leaning over it.

He grinned at her. "What are you doing?" He asked as she shifted her weight to her arms, trying to lift herself off the ground.

"What are _you_ doing?" She echoed, looking at him as she kept doing her best to fly.

He crossed his arms and leaned them over that same counter, looking in her narrowed eyes. "What am I doing?" He asked, snapping out of his previous daydream.

"Being a guy." She reasoned, jumping up.

He chuckled at her. Lane Kim. That girl had been his best friend since he remembered himself. She was always there. When he was getting ready for his very first date, when his mom died, when he needed to rant about Satasha, when he needed to just talk, when his dad had his heart attack. She was always there, refusing to let go of him. Never agreeing to walk away until he got everything out, until he felt better. He loved her for it. She was more a sister to him than the Lily girl ever was.

"Did you see her?" He dreamingly asked Lane, his voice smaller, calmer than it was before. He watched the curb which she previously walked in with a smile.

"The... Curb?" She raised an eyebrow in confusion. "When did the two of you get buddy-buddy?"

He playfully smacked her on the shoulder, causing her to lose her balance, and her feet to touch the floor. "The girl." 

She was glaring at him from the moment he caused her to fall. "I've seen a lot of girls." She replied nonchalantly, trying to pretend like she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You're mocking me." He announced. Not asking, not ordering. Just saying.

"I might be doing just that." She nodded, looking down at her hands as she did her best to repeat her previous deed.

He took the paperback book he was previously trying to read in his hand and hit her on the head hit it, causing her, again, to lose her balance and fall.

"You're being cranky." She motioned at his face and pouted, lightly touching his nose. "I'll go." She stabled herself on the floor and drew her hands away from the counter.

"Nah, stay." He smirked, leaning off the counter as well. "Keep me company."

She shook her head, looking into her bag. "I will not do such thing." She announced as she took something out of her bag. 

"Besides, I have to go to my mother's weekly bible reading in half an hour."

He clapped his hands together and pasted a visibly fake grin on his lips. "Oh, joy!" He joked, his voice higher than usual.

"Kid again and I shall repeat the terrible punk-in-bible-camp slaughter of 1999." She said indifferently with a nod. He slapped his hand on his eyes at the memories of that particular time, when Lane dragged him to bible camp with her, telling him nothing but that it's a place where they read a lot.

"Right. Right." He nodded, waving his hand through his hair.

"Just wanted to give you this." She placed a small black bag on the counter, nodding her head at its direction.

He looked at her, suspiciously, as he moved to open it. His eyes lit up as he saw its content. "You're a god." He said, taking a portable CD player out of the case, along with a CD-holding booklet.

"Was born and raised to be one." She said, cracking a small smile.

He smirked as he chose to place a _Pavement_ CD in the player. "You aren't trying to get me to join you in bible camp again, aren't you?" He glanced at her as he placed the headphones on his head.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She said dismissingly, zipping her bag."Glad to hear." He grinned, pushing the 'Play' button.

She flung the bag on her shoulder as she prepared to leave. "Enjoy me while you can."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Be here at eight."

She gave him a peck on the cheek before she left. Left through the same door, which Ocean previously left from. Ocean. That was a nice name. 

He hated it.

She must have a real name, he figured. 

He'll get it somehow.


	3. 2001 Come Before I Go

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better.

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**2001**

It was late. Very late. So late that it was actually early.

  
He was smoking his cigarette, making his way back from the store, towards 'his' house. It was only a few blocks away, and he preferred walking on bus-rides. He also knew there aren't any within-the-area busses at this time. So he walked. He hated busses, anyway.

  
He hated a lot of things. He hated working long hours, but he was able to do so and he had to do so.  
The bookstore was always opened 24 hours, 7 days a week. Ever since he remembered himself going to the store, it was opened 24/7. The store could've been dead empty at nights as stars were in the morning skies, and still, closing the store even one hour earlier was unacceptable.  
  


His dad hired a worker a few years before. Ralph something-somethingson. He usually took over while Jess went to catch on his missing sleep hours.  
  


Something caught his eyes. A delicate image wrapped in the soft light of the beautiful sunrise.  
  


"She didn't let the night stop her." He started with a smile as the hurled his cigarette to the ground, choking the fire as he stepped on it on his way to her. His mind was scrabbling words, which incautiously left his mouth. "It was dark. But even in the darkness, she shone. The brightness blessed her only. She was the sun."

  
She recognized him and looked down, smiling widely, giggling embarrassedly.  
  


"It was time for the sun to set, but her smile didn't allow it. It was eternal, she knew, and she was one to cause it."  
She held on to the back of the bench in the old-looking bus-station he was passing through everyday on his way to the store and back. Her eyes darted to examine his sweet but teasing smile, his cheerful but sad hazel eyes. 

"I've never read that one." She said, fiddling with a loose nail, which she earlier found on the ground.  
  


"It was never published." He replied, joining her on the bench.  
  


"It's beautiful." She admitted. "Sappy, but beautiful."  
  


He chuckled, moving his fingers to her face in order to gently remove a string of hair away. She proceeded to blush and to look down, allowing his fingers to travel into her hair.  
  


She had nothing to say. She had no idea who he was.  
  


"Her light-brown hair fell upon her face. Her ice-blue eyes turned to the ground, burning holes that will forever grace her presence." He kept going, his fingers running on a thin piece of her hair. "She was everything. It was all about her. All about..." He dropped his hand, letting her fill in the blanks.  
  


"Rory." She completed with a coy smile.  
  


"Rory." He repeated, making a mental note, and she nodded. "And who shall King of Sap be?" She asked, tilting her head at him.  
  


"Jess." He replied as simply as possible.  
  


She sat straight, smiling at his nonchalant expression. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She announced, slowly nodding her tilted head.  
  


"Likewise." He agreed with a sole nod.

  
She looked around and he looked around, until she kept talking.  
  


"So, what was with the stream of poetic thoughts?" She asked, placing one of her legs on top of the other, leaning on it.  
  


"Was just inspired." He stated with a shrug.   
  


She ran a hand through her hair, feeling her cheeks warming again. "Do you say that to all the girls you meet?" She asked, mildly hoping to put him in a slightly uncomfortable position, if he deserved to be put in one.  
  


He didn't take on her attempt and replied with a short, simple "Nope".   
  


She smiled, satisfied. "I shall now proceed to sigh with relief." She mused, and he replied with a "You do that."  
  


She looked away at the horizon, and he tried to search and follow her gaze.  
  


"You own that bookstore?" She asked, surprising him, her voice trailing with hints of confusion.  
  


He shook his head. "It's my dad's." He replied with a bittersweet grin.  
  


"Mariano's?" She asked, referring to the name of the store.  
  


He nodded. "That is us."  
  


"Family business?" She asked curiously,  
  


He shook his head again. "Not necessarily." He replied, and she swallowed the information in with a nod.  
  


"Do you read?" She showed interest, narrowing her eyes.  
  


"I can." He smirked.  
  


"Do you like to?" She perked an excited eyebrow.  
  


"You can say that." He smiled at her excitement.  
  


She smiled as a reply to his smile. "Fascinating."  
  


He nodded in agreement. "I think so."  
  


They sat in silence. It was perfect.  
  


"So." He broke the silence. "What is a girl like you doing here in a time like this?" He asked a little late, glancing at the sunrise, then back at her.  
  


She followed his glance. "Waiting for a bus." She answered, her eyes still set on the sun's glory.  
  


"Where to?" He narrowed his eyes, watching her watching the sun.  
  


"Hartford." She sighed, turning to look at him.  
  


And his heart sank. Hartford. That's not in New York.  
  


"Hartford?" He said, his tone a mixture between a question and a statement.  
  


"Hartford." She echoed in agreement.  
  


He shifted uneasily on his seat. "You have friends in Hartford?" He asked, hopingly.  
  


She looked down, wishing she was able to dig her head into the ground. "I live near Hartford." She admitted, her voice quiet and gentle.  
  


She lived in Hartford. Hartford was at least a few hours away.  
  


Only five days had passed since he first saw her. And now, she was leaving.  
  


"Will I ever see you again?" He asked, narrow eyed, hoping not to sound too pathetic but also not caring if he does.  
  


"You might." She nodded, "My dad lives somewhere around this area, so..." She trailed off and lightly smiled.  
  


"Okay, then."  
  


She smiled again, but it faded as soon as she heard the sound of a bus coming from afar. "I have to go." She announced with disappointment, standing up, taking her light-orange backpack with her.  
  


"Oh." He muffled, watching her preparing to walk away and out of his life. Suddenly, remembering something, he reached to grab her arm. "Listen!" He said, almost too intensely. She turned to him and he let go of her arm. "There's a party."  
  


She frowned at him, confused. "Two days from now, on 23rd." He continued. "You should come." He recommended.  
  


She pondered for a moment and then crooked a smile. "I'll think about it."  
  


The bus pulled by the curb and he looked at it with awe. She looked at him, pressing her lips together, not wanting to say anything. She turned to walk away when something fell out of her bag.   
  


A book. It fell spread, and he hurried to pick it up before she left without it. "You dropped..." She turned at the sound of his voice, looking at the book. "Oh." She sighed with a smile, taking it from his hand, meeting it for a split second.   
  


"Thank you."  
  


"Don't mention it." He smiled back. They stood there, looking at each other, interrupted only by the horning sound the bus-driver made to get the passenger's attention. 

She frowned, glancing backwards at the bus, then back at him.   
  


"Goodbye, Rory." He said, trying to stay as cheerful as can be. "Goodbye, Jess." She replied before she turned to walk away, stepping up on the bus, disappearing inside of it.  
  


He kept watching until the bus drove away. He walked backwards and leaned against the station pole, wishing he had another cigarette in his pocket.  
  


He closed his eyes and breath deeply. Opening his eyes after that, he noticed something.  
  


He walked towards it and bended, taking it in his hand. It was left where her book fell earlier.   
  


It was a bookmark. A simple but very special bookmark. It was plain white, but it seemed a bit worn-out. It had the name 'Gilmore' written on it with golden letters.  
  


He traced his fingers along the letters, then stuffed it in his pocket.

  
This was one to remember.


	4. 2001 Paint it Black

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. This episode's title is borrowed from The Rolling Stones' "Paint it Black".

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see. 

Also, I know Jess doesn't believe in cell phones. But he'll have to try, just for this fic. ;)

**Paint it Black**

The sparkling lights were bright. Too bright. Way too bright. Damn, how he hated flickers.

The place was big. It was seriously enormous. There were tons of people in there, dancing and… well, impregnating each other on various couches.

"You brought me to a party." Lane stated sternly as they entered the club, attempting to block the flickering lights with the back of her hand.

"Did I?" He asked, trying to tone his voice to something that is a mixture of innocence, mockery and nonchalance.

"You said we're going to disco." She remembered, getting the real meaning of his words just now.

"Yes I did." He nodded, grabbing her arm, trying to drag her statuette being into the actual club surface.

She frowned. "I thought The Palace was playing 'Boogie Nights' again!" She claimed, standing still, refusing to let him move her.

"Right." He snorted, "As if I'd risk Mama Kim finding out. Again." He smirked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, dragging her in against her own will. He snuck some glances every few seconds, just to look... For someone.

She lightly chuckled. "'No Boogie! Boogie only with god! Bible boogie!'" She quoted in a heavy Korean accent.

He chuckled as well, rubbing one of his temples. "That's something that will forever be burned into my brain."

She smirked at his comment. "She's got power, she's got will!" She called in a fake cheer, lifting her hands halfway up.

"Break a vase, she'll send a bill!" He joined, and she lowered her hands.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as she started walking, willingly.

He looked around as they walked in silence, music blasting from about… everywhere. She was nowhere to be found. How surprising.

He hoped she would come. But he knew that she wouldn't. She lived near Hartford, and he had to learn to deal with it. She was just… A thing. A beautiful, beautiful thing. She was nothing like the girls he knew. The girls he dated. He was never… never infatuated by any of them. They were zero for him. But she… She scored a ten. She scored higher than a ten.

But she wasn't there. And she wasn't going to be, he knew. And pining for her won't help.

He took a deep breath as he turned to his friend, resting on his shoulder. "Wanna boogie?" He asked her, trying to distract himself. 

"I don't boogie." She replied with a _'you know better than that' _glare. "_You _don't boogie." She reminded him.

"It's better than sitting and doing nothing." He shrugged, leading her to the very edge of the wide and well-lit dance floor. 

"Is it better than going to The Palace and watching 'Boogie Nights'?" She asked rhetorically.

"I promised Ian we'll be here." He told her, turning to an area full of loveseats.

"And you just forgot to remind me of that little fact." She sighed, crossing her arms against her chest. 

He sighed in reply. "'Oh, you'll like it. They do a lot of reading there.'" He quoted, reminding her of how she mislead him in order to make him join her at bible camp. 

"You always say that to justify yourself." She stated, shaking her head. "Your validation date has expired. You are the weakest link. Goodbye."

He tilted his head at her and narrowed her eyes, amused, waving two of his fingers near her face. "You need a drink."

She went quiet, gracing her facial features with a small pout. 

He left her to plop down on one of the seats as he headed for the bar.

And then she entered.

Wearing a knee-length, light blue, skin-tight, ¾-sleeved dress, her hair fell curled on her partly bare shoulders. 

She looked around, uneasily. She had no idea what she was doing, going to a party recommended to her by a guy she talked to for seven minutes, knowing no one but him and herself.

He grabbed a beer for himself and a bottle of Pepsi for Lane. He spun around and started heading back to the couch where Lane was sitting, but then he froze.

He lost his grip on the drinks and they slipped out of his hands, shattering on the flawless floor, causing numerous people to stare at him momentarily. 

And he caught her attention.

She was perfect. Flawless. More than the club's floor, even, and that was a lot. He never believed she would come. But she did.

His lips unnoticeably curved in a coy smile, and she smiled in return.

She watched them from her seat, her hands fiddling together. She was nervous. She was worried. She was upset. 

Jess had many girls before, she knew. He was a real skirt-chaser. He agreed to go out with anyone who didn't look like a billboard or a graffiti wall. And she was somewhat fine with it. He never had feelings for any of them. He told her so. He was an amazing friend, but in terms of relationships, she knew how he could get.

She wasn't worried. Until now.

She saw how excited he was to see that little piece of heaven he liked to name Ocean, even though he hated it. She hated it. He seemed to actually like this girl. He knew her for a week and he was already head-over-heels charmed. He wasn't set in his usual date-her, do-her, dump-her mood.

She, on the other hand, was there. Always. But she was just a friend. His best friend. She wanted to be more.

She knew nothing would come out of it. He was a troubled bad-boy, she was a misunderstood bible-girl. But still, she was waiting for the day he would notice her as more than just his best friend.

She kept watching them as they just stood and stared at each other for moments. She had a feeling this day would never come.

"Hey." She overheard his voice, speaking cautiously, and rolled her eyes.

"Hi." Rory replied to him, slowly getting closer to where he was.

"You came." He smiled, his eyes widened in surprise.

She nodded, smiling back. "I came." 

Running out of words, they simply stared at each other for a short while, each one's expression unreadable. But the smiles on their faces hinted about how they actually felt.

"How was your ride?" He asked, wanting to hear her voice.

It took her a moment to focus her attention on his words. That's was the reason she came. "Oh." She laughed with embarrassment, "It was good. Really good." She nodded along as she laughed.

"Yeah?" He asked, not paying much attention but dedicating all his attention to her, both at the same time.

"Yeah." She replied, smiling so widely that it hurt. But it was natural. She was happy. "Someone spat on me." 

He creased his brows in confusion. "What?"

"On the bus." She added quickly. 

"Oh." He cringed with disgust.

She looked down and giggled lightly. "Yeah, so I had to take a cab."

He narrowed his eyes. "Was it expensive?" He asked with some concern.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Coz I can reimburse you, if…"

"It was nothing." She cut into his words, dismissing the issue with a wave of her hand.

He nodded and just kept looking at her. Those eyes, that smile. He was a second away from making another sappy praising speech about her features. He was never that way. But now that he was, it felt good. It felt refreshing. It felt inspiring.

"You wanna dance?" He asked. It was one of these stupid things that he said since he was too busy with his mind to actually control his mouth.

She smiled slightly, biting her lower lip. "I don't…really… Dance." She said, looking down at her dress-matching pair of sandals.

He tilted his head and rubbed the back of his neck, sighing with relief. "That's good. I don't, either."

She looked back up at him, her brows furrowed, her lips still curved in a smile. "Why'd you ask me to dance, then?"

He simply shrugged.

"Because, I've… Been told before that I seem the dancing type, but I'm not, so I asked what I could do to look like I'm not and…"

"Do you want to go?" It was his turn to cut into her words, and she stopped talking, gazing at him with confusion in her eyes. "Outside. It's a beautiful night out."

Her gaze darted to the exit of the club, which she entered through just minutes before. She was here because of him anyway. She'll go wherever he will go. "It'll be my pleasure." She said with a nod.

He offered her a hand and she took it. Together they went outside, leaving not only the club, but also someone. 

Lane watched them with undeniable frustration, compiled with hints of anger. She was never one to seek attention, but this was way too much.

He could have cared less. Having her there filled his mind, shoving any other piece of into out of his head. He was lucky to still remember his name.

"Where are we heading?" She asked, her hands still gripped in his. 

He grinned as he looked ahead. "There's this park I like…" He said, turning to look at her. "It's about a minute away." 

She looked into his eyes, another smile forming on her lips. "You're not going to try and grope me there, will you?" Her tone was full of mocking suspicious.

He faked a gasp, raising his free hand to cover his mouth. "Oh, no!" He dropped the hand and dropped the gasp. "I never grope on the first date." He joked, waggling an eyebrow. As if.

She laughed, and he pointed to somewhere, which she looked at. "There." He motioned, pulling her hand lightly with him as he took the lead towards the park.

She approvingly grinned at the sight. "Seems nice."

He nodded. "It is."

-

And the ring of a Cellphone stopped her from thinking. She pushed all thoughts of Jess to the back of her head as she tried to recognize the muffled ring. It couldn't have been her beeper.

And then she recalled the fact that Jess asked her to put his Cellphone in her bag. Who would've thought the two of them would part?

She sighed as she reached inside her bag and pulled the Cellphone out. Besides being mildly concerned about not having a way to contact her lovesick friend, her throat formed a chuckle after she saw the flashing 'Hell' title that followed the ring, shown on the caller ID.

She clicked something and brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?" She answered, waiting for a reply from the other line. "Hi, Mrs. Mariano." 

She was told that Jess was needed for a reason. And then her facial expression fell.

-

They were sitting on a bench under a streetlight; body's turned to each other. 

"So, fearless Sap-king," She titled her head, leaning it on her hand. "Tell me about yourself." She settled herself and waited, wanting to find out more about one she felt like she knew forever.

He shrugged. "There's nothing to tell."

She frowned at him. "Hey, I came a long way to a stupid party just to see you. I want to know something about you."

He sighed, realizing she's right. "My name is Jess." He said. It was the only thing he thought about.

She half-smiled. "I know that already. That and the fact that you're Hooked on Phonics. Give me more."

He leaned his head back on nothing, looking up at the sky. He had nothing to say. His life has been pretty much crap and he wasn't very proud of the person he is.

"Well…" He took a deep breath, "I… Like… stuff." He sighed, burying his face in his hands. "There really isn't much to tell."

She didn't want to make things hard on him. But she wanted to know more about that guy. She went back to New York to go to a party, just to see him. And he was telling her nothing.

"Do you have any hopes?" She raised an eyebrow, "Dreams?"

He half-smirked, a bit sadly. All his hopes died six years ago, along with his mom. But he still had some dreams.

"I'll might want try my luck at writing." He looked at her and smiled softly, "I can do better than sap." He assured her, his smile turning into a smirk.

"That sounds nice." She said, meaning it. "Be sure to send me an autographed copy of all your best-sellers."

"I'll put you as my beta reader." He said, joking, but still meaning it. 

"I'd be honored." She smiled.

He smiled at her. Her smile was the most beautiful thing. And he felt sappy again.

"So, what about you?" He asked. "Do you have time for a Show and Tell?" 

She chuckles softly. "You don't want to hear about it." She said, "It'll probably bore you to death." She looked down, her smile taming.

He grinned reassuringly. "I promise to keep a straight face."

She took a deep breath. "Well…" She started, laughing nervously. "I like music, I like reading, I… Well, I live with my mom in a small town near Hartford…" She rubbed her forehead, thinking of more to tell. "I… Well, that's me, basically."

"Any hopes?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating her former question, "Dreams?"

She shrugged. "I basically have everything I ever wished for." She said, "But… As of dreams… I want to be a journalist."

He chuckled. "You find joy in writing 'He said', 'She said' crap?" He asked, teasingly.

She shook her head. "Not especially." She slightly grinned, "Unless it's 'He said', 'She said' from the dark forests of Tijuana." 

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Tijuana?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Anywhere." 

He nodded, realizing what she meant. "You want to be an overseas correspondent." He stated, and she agreed with a "Yep".

He smirked at her. "I'm impressed. It's not every day that you find a girl whose biggest dream isn't to model." 

She laughed at his comment. "I figured that anything Barbie never was would fit."

"That's good to know." He said, looking down.

She looked down as well, at her hands, watching how one of her hands slowly moved to cover his.

He looked up at her and she did the same. Their eyes locked. Something drew them closer. And closer. And closer. And…

"Jess."

They pulled apart. Jess looked around, confused, until he finally found Lane standing a small distance away from them, holding a Cellphone in her hand.

He shut his eyes and cursed himself quietly. He forgot that he left her at that party. He was such an idiot. How can you forget your best friend?!

"Lane…" He started, shaking his head, wanting to explain.

"Sasha's on the phone." She said, interrupting him before he could say anything to justify himself.

Rory eyes her, confused, just as Lane did the same thing.

He frowned and rose up, walking towards Lane, taking the phone from her hand.

"What do you want?" He asked harshly into the phone as he held the phone to his ear.

"Well, hello to you, too." Said the person on the other line.

He rolled his eyes impatiently. When Sasha called him… Things had to be gone wrong. "And I repeat my question." 

He heard Sasha's high-pitched chuckle, which only got him more annoyed. "Harsh. Stubborn. Just like your father _was_."

He narrowed his eyes, freezing for a moment. "What do you mean 'was'?" He asked, cautiously, fear rising in him.

"It's over." She said, trying to keep her voice chuckle-free… And not managing to do so. "He's gone."

His grip on the phone loosened, to the point where he wasn't able to hold it any longer. His heart started to race in an unexplainable beat. He felt dizzy. He wasn't even able to locate the bench, even though his legs couldn't hold his weight any longer.

She stood up quickly and rushed to his side. "What's wrong?" She asked, concerned. He couldn't answer. He wasn't able to hear her. "Jess, what's wrong?!" She repeated, her heart filling with fear.

"It's The End." Lane replied, following Rory to Jess's side.

She watched as Lane wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him. 

Seconds later, she disappeared.


	5. 2001 The Good, The Bad, The Worse

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

Sorry this chapter took so long. I was in a school trip for three days and afterwards, I was just in a lot of emotional stress. Thankies for bearing with me. =D 

**The Good, the Bad, the Worse**

He was the only one remained in the cemetery. No one cared enough to stay and comfort him. He never wanted anyone's comfort. But it was nice to be offered some.

It wasn't only that his dad's funeral just occurred. He thought it couldn't get any worse. But then he was told that since his dad never left a will, all his possessions were to be divided equally between his own flesh and blood, his bitchy wife and her pathetic daughter. Nothing mattered to anyone. No one cared enough to ever try and make it matter.

And she wasn't there.

He felt horrible about even trying to compare the two cases, but he couldn't help it. It was way beyond him.

She disappeared. He needed her most, and she disappeared. He wanted her most, and she disappeared.

But he was still somewhat grateful. He thanked the god he never believed existed for…

"Lane."

She touched his shoulder and he turned his head to find her standing there.

She sat down besides him, just staring at nothing as he did.

"You okay?" She asked, hesitantly.

He forced a faint smile. "I'll live."

She smiled back at him and reached to lightly rub his back. "You always do."

He chuckled, pretending like she made him feel better.

She only made it worse.

"Do you want me to get you something?" She asked and he shook his head. "Do you want to go on a walk, or…?"

"I'm fine." He kept lying.

"Are you sure?" She narrowed her eyes at him with concern.

He nodded. "I just wanna be alone." He said, turning to look into her disappointed eyes.

She nodded as well, in reply, understanding. "Okay." She said, quietly.

He half-smiled gratefully as she stood up. She leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

Then she left.

He buried his head in his hands.

He was alone again. Completely alone.

He came home. He wanted to go to the bookstore, but he knew he'd have to work if he was there, and he was too emotionally drained to bring himself to it. Besides, that place held much more memories of his father. More than his 'home' could ever wish for.

He walked through the oh-too-long corridor, which lead to the living room, convinced that he'd find his step-mom dancing of drunken joy.

But what he saw was even more disturbing. He almost ran into a pile of books that flew out of his room and landed on the floor, next to him.

He walked into his room, only to watch Lily randomly throwing his stuff on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" He frowned, trying to keep calm.

"Playing softball." She snorted, rolling her eyes, getting ready to throw another handful of books on the cold tile floor.

He rushed to hold her arm before she did.

"What the hell are you doing?" He repeated, not so calmly.

"She's moving." Came a voice from the entrance to the room. He turned to see Sasha's sly grin starring on the fake show that is her face.

He raised an eyebrow. "Moving?" He asked. "What do you mean 'moving'? She has a room."

Sasha tilted her head, wrapping a strand of her black hair around her thin finger. "Lily's growing up. Her room isn't big enough." She justified herself.

"Her room is bigger than mine." He stated sternly.

She shrugged dismissively. "Oh, well." She sighed. "We'll just break the wall."

He ran his hand through his hair. There was no point of arguing with her, "Why do you keep messing with a territory that isn't yours?" He asked, his voice dotted with the pain that was only increasing.

She tried to muffle a cackle, but found it impossible. "But, you see, it [I]is[/I] my territory." She smirked. "Mommy and daddy are already building their own castle in the sky." 

He never cried. Never, in his life. But he was also never closer to doing so.

"Do you have a bench downstairs with my name on it?" He sighed, still trying to keep cool as his inside was storming with rage.

"Upstairs." She nodded. "You can clean the storage room in the attic."

He started laughing. He just laughed.

"You're kidding me." He claimed.

She chuckles. "You wish." She said, before slipping out of the room.

He turned to Lily, his face silently screaming for help. And she helped by throwing a pile of shirts at him.

Being in the attic, it was easy to guess that it hasn't seen light or oxygen for ages.

The dusty air made him cough, forcing him to drop the box he carried upstairs with him.

It was almost impossible to believe all that he went through in the last few weeks. His family wasn't decent, but with his father, it was at least half it.

And then the heart attack… And then Rory… And then he lost them both in the same night.

He rushed to open the sole, small window of the attic room, letting some sunlight and air bless the small space.

Maybe that room wasn't so bad. Maybe with some color, some posters, some… Life, in it, it won't be so bad.

Who was he kidding? It was a secret passage to hell. He was pretty much sure Sasha will spill gasoline on the ground and set the room on fire while he was asleep. Goodlife R' Us.

He sat down on an old, semi-broken couch, waving-off the dust that escaped it as he did.

He took his Cellphone out of his jacket pocket. No unanswered calls, no text messages, no voice messages. No her.

He sighed. He wasn't surprised. She didn't have his Cellphone number. He was dumb enough to only give her his home number. And he was dumb enough to not take hers.

Lily entered his 'new' room, carrying a box of stuff, dropping it as soon as she came it.

"Hey." She greeted, nonchalantly, sitting down next to him on the dusty couch.

He set the phone back in his pocket, not bothering to look at her. "I thought you were busy playing softball." He told, getting up to look out the window.

"Ha." Lily replied, simply, crossing her arms. 

"A ridiculous person deserves to be asked ridiculous questions." He sighed, looking out.

She sighed in reply. "Look, you think I wanted this?" She asked in mild despair.

"Of course not." He half-smirked to himself. "No one wants to have their step-brother move out. Especially if it means getting a bigger room."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not me, you know." She said. "It was mom's idea."

"I know." He said in reply. He knew. Lily wasn't bright enough to come up with such a stale idea.

"So stop acting like it's my fault." She continued.

He turned to her. "As long as you agreed, it is your fault." 

He started pacing across the room as she silently watched him.

"Mom said that a girl called to look for you." She said.

And he froze. A girl. Called. To look for him.

"Girls never call the house to look for you." She continued, matter-of-factly. "Did you get anyone pregnant and gave her nothing but your name?" She asked.

He felt like hitting her with hammer. But he had no hammer. He sighed. If only he had a hammer. "What did she want?" He asked impatiently.

"I don't know." She pondered. "Something about… Telling you she's over you and that she found someone else." She nodded. That was what her mom told her to say.

He frowned. "You're making that up." He said. Not asked, said. He wished she was.

"Nope." She replied. She had no idea, really.

He buried his head in his hands. He was losing her. Completely.

"Get out." He said, silently. Lily didn't move.

He looked up at her, his eyes stained with pain. "Get out." He repeated, harshly.

She sighed and got up, walking away without saying a word. 

He wanted to collapse. He wanted nothing more than to join his parents in their 'castle in the sky'.

Actually, he wanted nothing more. He wanted her. But that was one more thing to scratch off his list.

One more thing to get him down. One more thing to believe there was nothing for you.

Just one more thing.


	6. 2001 Killing Me Softly

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**Killing Me Softly**

She paced across her room with the phone in her hand. It was about the 9th time she had called him. And every time, she got either the answering machine or Jess's step-mom.

She hated herself. She hated herself for leaving the great guy she just got to know as soon as there was one moment she wasn't needed in. She wanted him. She wanted to be the one to hold him in her arms and give comfort to. She wanted to plant a kiss on his lips, as she didn't get the chance to.

She wanted to find him. But instead, she got that same familiar voice.

"Hello." A voice called from the other line.

"Uh, hi." She coughed, trying to disguise her voice. "I'm calling from the subscriptions department of the Wall Street Journal. I was wondering if I might speak to mister Jess Mariano?" She crossed her fingers.

The voice on the other like cackled. "Nice disguise, Ror." 

Sasha got to know Rory from all these phone calls. All the messages she left, all the things she wanted her to tell Jess. And she enjoyed her ability to fix those things so it'll fit her needs.

"Sasha." She sighed, giving up. "Please, please get him to talk to me." She begged, plopping down on her bed.

Sasha shook her head. "I told you. He asked me to tell you he wants nothing to do with you." She nodded to herself.

Rory sighed again. "Did you tell him I said I'm sorry?" She asked in despair.

"Yeah, he doesn't give a shit."

Rory buried her head in her hand. "Fine." She ran her hand through her hair. "Thanks anyway." 

"Bye." Sasha replied, putting the phone back in its cradle. She stopped to take a deep breath. Life was good.

Not for him. 

He found himself spending a lot of time in the park. He couldn't walk into the bookstore; his room was a little piece of crap. He needed air. He needed sun. He needed freedom. 

He needed the life he used to have.

He lost interest in the book he was holding. He lost interest in literature. His mind was too corrupted to let any false reality take over and make it better. He couldn't bear the fact that there won't be anyone to share his love for books with, to have passionate discussions with. He couldn't bear the fact that the closest person to him was gone.

He had nothing to give him a reason to stay on his feet. He threw his book to his side and leaned back, resting his head on the grass, closing his eyes.

He opened his eyes and jumped in his place. 

"You have to stop doing that." He told her with a sigh, sitting up.

Lane smiles and joined him on the grass. "Watcha doing?" She asked, looking for the book he always held in his hand.

Knowing what she's looking for, he took the book from his side and showed it to her before throwing it back down.

"Why aren't you reading?" She frowned. He always read. He sometimes read while she was talking to him. That was nice.

He shrugged. "Not in the mood."

"Oh." She sighs, sorry for asking.

"Yup." He nodded once.

She hugged her knees to her chest and looked at him. He was looking down at the ground. Maybe because he was afraid of what's above him, or what's on the surface where he lived. She knew she could read him beyond what he wanted her to read.

"How are you dealing?" She asked gently, quietly, tilting her head at him.

He rolled his eyes with uncertainty. "I'm not getting any outer help, if that's what you're asking."

"My help comes with no extra charge, you know." She smiles slightly. He returned a smile to show his gratitude.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. And she helped.

He came home, almost forgetting where his current room is. He wanted to go up there and mingle with the tiny ounce of privacy he had in there.

But something bothered his eyes. Three figures sitting in the living room. Two which he unfortunately knew, one that he didn't. He half expected it to be an assassin that was hired to take the little life he had left in him.

"Oh, goodie." Sasha faked a grin, "Look who's here."

"Having a party?" Jess asked coolly, examining the guy that was sitting on the single-seat couch, looking though papers.

Lily nodded. "You just missed the booze." She said with a smirk.

She thought she was so funny. She was in for a surprise.

"Shouldn't you be playing softball?" He asked rhetorically, feeling like breaking something. Sasha's crystal vase seemed like a neat option.

"Third time's the charm, huh?" Lily commented, leaning back.

"Oh!" He called, faking surprise. "You can count!"

"Kids!" Sasha called, standing up. Lily grunted, Jess rolled his eyes. "Silence."

She walked towards Jess, stopping not far from him.

"I have something to run past you." She said, lightly grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it heavy and moves on four wheels?" He asked hopefully.

She ignored him. "Since there's no one to take care of the bookstore anymore, we thought about possibly selling the place."

His eyes widened. Before he managed to sneak a comment, Sasha continued.

"But Mr. Gleason here," She turned to the strange man who looked up from his papers, "Who's an expert in all that involves investments and culture, told us we'll gain more if we just change the place a bit." She smiles.

He took a deep breath. "What do you want to do?" He asked, waiting for the worst.

"A club." Sasha announced proudly.

Jess shut his eyes. What the… "Club?" He echoed her, almost amused. "Are you delirious?" 

She took one more step towards him. "We're doing this." She told him. "And if you don't want to… That's too bad." She turned and walked to sit besides her daughter. "It's two against one. Majority rules."

"You can't do this." He said, trying to not uncover the pain in him. He wasn't ready to let go of the biggest, possibly last memory he had of his father.

Sasha grinned. "I think I can." She replied, crossing her arms against her chest.

He shook his head in defeat. "Whatever." He said, before retiring to his room.

He plopped down his bed and ran his hands across his face.

It was a nightmare. He had to wake up. He had to wake up now.

He didn't. 

It was a nightmare. She had to wake up. She had to wake up now.

She didn't. 

She dug her head in her pillow, trying to find comfort in cuddling it.

Her feelings for him were unexplained. They were new and foreign and definitely strong. If there was a thing as love at first sight, she felt it.

And she left him. And he wouldn't forgive her. And he would never will.

And she will forever regret what she did. 

She wanted him. She wanted to help him. She knew it was hard, he told her what was going on in his life.

And she made it worse. She knew it.

He wished she was there to pinch him. To bring him back to good. Or at least, to help him through it. But she wasn't. She was over it. She moved on. And he was there, trying not to cry over it.

He thought about his mom. His dad. Her. The store. He thought about how easy it was to lose them. He thought about how hard it will be to get something to make up for them, to fill in the void he felt after each loss. And he shed a tear. 

He was crying.

For the first time in his life, he cried. And it felt so horrible that it actually felt good.


	7. 2002 On the Line

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**On the Line**

**2002**

Finally. After months of work, the club his 'family' was so proud of was opening. Lily decided to name it "Glitter". It made him want to throw up.

It's not that he was excited. He was nothing but excited. But he had to go. It was partly his, so he had to go. He wanted to hide somewhere, but he knew Sasha was to send a search unit if he did. She wouldn't let his escape from what she knew was to be something that will obviously make him suffer.

He picked up the portable phone from besides him and let himself sooth as he clicked on the "On" button. If he was going to turn out suicidal after that night, he figured he'd better have company. 

He punched a number that he had memorized years ago and waited for the dial tone to cut and for the familiar voice of Mrs. Kim to be heard.

"Kim's Antiques, we're closed. Call tomorrow." Came the line that he often heard at this time of the day. 

He rubbed his forehead. "May I please speak to Lane?" He asked, frowning over the fake manners he had to put on every time he was near Lane's mom.

Mrs. Kim checked the large wooden clock that was hanged over her head. "It's Ten. Ten late. You're don't call after Nine." She said in her harsh voice. He couldn't picture her in a good mood.

He sighed. "I know it's after ten, but please, can I please talk to Lane?" He plead, shutting his eyes with annoyance.

There was a pause from the other line. "Just this once?" She asked, her tone slightly mellower. 

"Just this once." He echoed her.

She frowned. "You always say just this once." Mama Kim regained her previous stern tone. "And you always call again. No just this once!"

He sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Mrs. Kim, I swear, it's the last time I'm going to call after nine." He clenched the fist of his unoccupied hand, wishing she would cave already.

The other line suffered another pause. "Fine." Came in a defeated tone. "Five minutes."

"Thank you." He said, his tone not very sincere.

The other line came with no reply. He just heard the distant sound of footsteps, of Mrs. Kim's heels clicking on the parquet floor. He was able to hear very little of the short dialog Mrs. Kim had with her daughter, not actually managing to grasp any of the words said. After a few moments, he heard a voice.

"Calling after 9:00 again." Lane smiled.

"Of course." He grinned. "Because calling before nine would be un-cool."

She chuckled. "You know I never tell anything." She said, leaning the phone on her shoulder to help her support it without using her hands, as she opened the doors of her closet and reentered the magical, spiritual world she built herself in there, to avoid the crazy reality she was living in at home. "So you don't have to worry about your reputation being ruined."

He lightly chuckled in reply. "I feel so much better now." He said with fake excitement.

"Glad I could help." She half-smiled. He could sense her half-smiling through the phone. He was able to hear it in her voice. That and _Belle and Sebastian_'s 'Waiting For The Moon To Rise'.

"What's cooking?" He asked her, letting himself relax a bit as he was setting himself to be entertained of Lane Kim's crazy stories. It was about the only thing which brought a smile to his lips in the past few months.

"Well, mama baked a semolina cake." She said with a dismissive shrug and he smiled. "Other than that, nothing much."

"Homework?" He asked, knowing her day schedule by heart.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Bible class." He stated, knowing it would be useless to ask.

"Yes." She faintly smiled

"Salad and Tofu Pie." He grinned.

She sighed. "Yes."

"And apparently, a semolina cake."

"Give the boy a prize." She teased.

"Will it be something featuring semolina?" He asked with narrowed eyes.

She smirked. "It might." 

He grimaced in disgust. "I'll pass."

"Good." She nodded, her voice pouring with cynicism. "More for me, then."

"Question." He said, cutting straight to the chase. He disliked dwelling. He didn't really have time to dwell, anyway. 

She raised an eyebrow. "Answer?"

"Guess what's happening next Saturday." He said dully.

She shrugged. "You're getting burned at the stake?" She tried to guess, her eyebrows raised from curiosity.

"Almost." He nodded. "_Glitte_r's grand opening." He said, the fake excitement paying another visit to his voice.

"Ah." She nodded to herself. "You want me to jump with you."

He raised his brow for a second. "It's always nice in duos. We can see who lands first, enjoy the pleasant noises of each other's sculls smashing on the sidewalk…"

"Okay, you're freaking me out here." She cut into his words, releasing the support of her shoulder on the phone and holding it back in her hand, as her neck was starting to ache.

He lightly smirked. "Sorry."

"Accepted."

"So… Up to it?" He asked, hopefully. She was always the light in his darkness.

She hesitantly nodded. "Is there any access to the roof?" She teased. "In case Lily decides to make it a Britney Spears tribute night."

"I'm sure we'll find something." He rested his free arm on his stomach.

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay." She said.

"Thank you." He smiled, sincerely.

"Don't mention it." She said, adding a dismissing hand motion.

"Am I passing the five?" He asked, glancing at his watch.

"You're getting there." She nodded.

He sighed. "Talk to you tomorrow?" He asked.

"Before nine." She nodded yet again.

"Duly noted." He grinned. "Bye." He said, shutting the phone. No sappy goodbyes for him.

She got used to it. To him. She learned to despise anything sappy.

He taught her a lot. He rubbed off on her. He caused her to change, even if it was only a little bit.

He caused her to fall for him.

It's been months since he last mentioned Rory. He told her something about how things didn't work out. That was the last time he mentioned her. 

She seriously had no idea what happened there. But she wasn't very interested in finding out.

She splashed down on her bed with a smile on her face.

Maybe now he'll see. Maybe now she'll have him as more than a friend.

The phone rang. She chose to ignore it.

It rang again. And she chose to ignore it.

And it kept ringing. And she kept choosing to ignore it.

And it stopped.

And it started again. And she chose to ignore it.

And it rang and rang and rang. She eventually rolled off her bed and limped over to the phone, picking it up.

"Hello?" She asked, accompanied by a yawn.

"Why, hello to you, too." Came a fierce response. "Thank you for blessing me with your attention." 

"Paris?" She frowned, wiping the sleep out off her eyes.

"Gilmore." She stated coldly.

"Paris, it's 7am." She stated with a sigh. "7am on a Saturday morning."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Came a reply that was loud enough to cause Rory to move the phone away from her ear for a moment. "Don't you think I have something better to do than sitting with the phone, waiting for you to pick the darn phone?!"

She cringed. "You might have something better to do." She agreed. "Like **sleeping**."

"Sleeping is way overrated." She lectured, fiddling with a pen. "We need to work."

"In 7am on a Saturday?!" She asked desperately.

Paris stood up and started to pace, the phone in her hand. "I call Madeline, her door is locked. I call Louise, she hasn't even came home yet!" She rambled.

She sighed again. "Well, some of us have a life." She said. "Or are **sleeping**!"

"Let's get to work, shall we?" Paris ignored her, moving to sit near her desk. "I just got back from the library." She informed Rory, who raised her eyebrows in pure shock. "I found documentary files, commentaries, speculations, historical exhibitions, old papers, graphs, articles and columns written by an unauthorized bunch of clueless halfwits. All that will help us get a better view of what really happened in the 20th century's Russia."

A heavy sigh was heard from Rory's side of the line as Paris gratefully paused talking in order to look for all she needed to look for.

"Oh my dear, dear god." Rory heard coming from the other line. She narrowed her eyes with confusion.

"Paris?" She asked.

"You tell a girl to **not** get a stupid invitation anywhere near you. Trying doing so." She said as she tilted her head to get better access to the speaker. "See if girl ends up slipping the invitation into your backpack!" She shouted, and Rory covered both her ears as a reflex.

"What did Louise do?" She sighed. It was obvious. It was Paris's daily ranting ceremony. Surprisingly, asking for details was the only thing to calm her down.

"She got this invitation." Paris started, way too fast, like she was waiting for Rory to ask, like she knew she would. "For this stupid party in New York. She's so excited about the whole thing; she never stops talking about it. Party in New York, party in New York. It's like there's all to this world. It's what her life is about, it's the freaking _meaning_ of her life." She kept shouting into the phone.

Rory's heart missed a bit. Party in New York. She remembered the time she was in a party in New York. It was her first time. It was also her last time. She sighed thinking about what happened through it. About how it ended. About the consequences it brought along with it.

"Like I even go to parties, let along in New York." Paris finished her rant with a vital need for air. 

"What is it with that party, anyway?" Rory asked, trying to tame the hints of interest and curiosity in her voice.

"Beats me." Paris replied, still panting. "It's this stupid grand opening of this stupid club named _'Glitter'_. That name is hideous. It should be slayed, it should be chopped, it should be drowned." She insisted into the phone. "There's probably going to be a convention of the 'I've only got an ounce of a brain' club."

She wished for her to calm down. "Where is this club?" She asked, wondering if it was anywhere close to… Well, him.

"Why do you care?" Paris frowned.

"Just do." Rory replied impatiently.

She sighed and turned to her page. "35th W 3rd street." She read. "Happy?"

It rang a bell. The address. It rang a bell. "Will you please wait a second?" She asked Paris, then rested the phone down without waiting for an answer. She stepped into her room and pulled one of the drawers of her nightstand open. She took out a folded shopping bag. Unfolding it, the title "Mariano's" pinched her. Hard. She looked at the bottom. There was an address at the bottom. There was an address, which read '35th W 3rd St.' at the bottom. And she froze.

It took her a few moments to regain herself and to go back to the phone. To Paris. To human contact.

"I'm coming." She stated as she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Huh?" Paris asked with confusion.

"To the party. I'm coming." She replied, determinedly.

Paris paused. "Why?" She eventually asked, her face frowning."

"Just because." Rory let out, hiding behind a dark quilt of enigma.

"Are you a member of the 'I've only got an ounce of brain' club?" She asked, crossing her arms to her chest.

"I just wanna go, Paris." She stated, sick of this. "When is it?"

"It says it's tonight." Paris replied, reading from the paper. "9pm."

"Thank you." She said, scrabbling something down on a random pen and paper she found seconds ago.

"Will you please work now?" She asked harshly.

Rory rolled her eyes. "I'll call you later, Paris."

Her jaw fell. "But…"

"Bye." Rory said before hanging up the phone, getting back to her room. She looked down at the bag once again.

Whatever happened, she was going to figure out. Whatever she broke, she was planning to fix.

Whatever happens. happens. She had to be there.


	8. 2002 Lost and Lost and Found

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**Lost and Lost and Found**

There was a disco ball hanged down from the middle of the ceiling. 

It was big. Huge. If it fell down, it was sure to squash about half the people on the dance floor. Oh, and let's not forget the dance floor. You know those cube-parted floors that were randomly lit by numerous colorful lights? This one wasn't less cheery.

He almost wished for the ball to fall and squash half the people on the dance floor. It was all Lily's friend and some other people who were looking for a 'good time', anyway. Good time. Funny. It made him wish to stand under the ball and ask someone to drop the ball on him.

He still had no idea why he was there. It was masochism. Pure masochism.

She had no idea why he brought her there. She kept sending glares at him through the evening. He was a masochist, and she was his partner in crime.

"I think I'm ready to fully embrace my religion." Lane said nonchalantly.

"Meaning?" He frowned.

"I'm going to sneak into the bathroom and pray. And pray and pray. And pray some more." She states.

"Can I tag along?" He perked an eyebrow at her.

"… With me to the bathroom?" She crossed her arms, frowning.

He shrugged. "Makes no difference. I'm sure both the girls' and guys' bathrooms are painted pink." He rolled his eyes.

"I'll take you up on that." She nodded, as someone went past her, pushing her aside.

"Jess!" Lily called with fake excitement, wearing something small enough to be inspired by a Shpritney video. "You're here! Super!" She kept faking her excitement, as a bunch of girls rushed to stand behind her.

"I'm dancing out of joy here." He said coldly.

Lily giggled. "Well, that's great." She turned to glance at her friends. "You…" she pointed at Jess, "Get the first drink for free." She smiled. "You have to pay 5 bucks." She told Lane.

Before Lane had the chance to comment, Jess commented with a chuckle of his own. "I'm sure she'll now proceed to take out a five dollar bill and shove it up your panties." He said in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head.

Lily let the smile fade off her face. "Yeah, well." She said, turning to walk away, the girls following close behind.

Jess stared after her with mild disbelief. He learned to realize that _this_ was his stepsister's nature. Such a freaking shame.

"So, I see that Lily's people skills are improving." Lane commented, walking to Jess's side again after being pushed away.

Jess chuckled quietly. "She's being tutored." 

"Must be one cheap tutor." She smirked.

"Must be." He nodded.

The stood there in silence, scanning the crowd with their tired eyes, both of them silently wishing for a pistol.

"So." He finally turned to her, trying to have his voice cover the horrible music that was blasting through the speakers. "Got five bucks?" He asked, and she nodded in reply with a sly smile. 

"After you." She gestured to the direction of the bar, and followed as he headed over.

"This is so Cosmo." Said a tall blonde who entered the club, her arm linked with a brunette's arm.

"This is so chic." The brunette replied with a nod.

"This is so… pink." Added the girl who was standing behind them, hints of disgust in her voice.

She was there with Madeline and Louise. Madeline and Louise. Shelly and Barbie. Joey and Jen. Okay, enough with the references.

She had no idea why she was there. Well, she had an idea, but she had no idea.

Even Paris interrogated her about it. Her 'party in New York' speech really outlasted itself.

And she didn't want to go alone. And Paris went crazy just from the fact that Rory considered her arrival as a possibility. So she had to call Madeline and Louise.

There's no need to add that Madeline and Louise whispered over the phone for about 20 minutes after she called them. They eventually agreed for her to tag along.

And now she was standing in the opening of a club named 'Glitter'. 'Glitter'. Referred to the movie, she knew it couldn't get any worse.

But it surprised her. There was pink everywhere. And disco lights, and a disco ball, and… a flashing dance floor. She felt sick.

"This is so going on my list." Louise – Blondie – said with a hand gesture.

"You're gonna come here every week?" Madeline asked her.

"Every week." Louise confirmed with a nod.

"Who's gonna drive you?" Madeline frowned.

Louise pondered. "Alan has a nice car." She grinned.

"A very nice car." Madeline emphasized her friend's point, but stopped as a thought came to her mind. "But I thought Alan hates you because of what happened in Ivory's party." 

"Oh." Louise paused, thinking it over. "Well, we'll just have to ask Ivory." She nodded.

"Us in a Peugeot?" Madeline pointed out in disgust, to which Louise responded with her own disgusted expression. "Besides, didn't you dump Ivory two weeks ago?" 

"Three weeks ago." Louise nodded. "And, yeah, that might be a problem."

"We should buy a car." Madeline suggested, sighing.

"Together?" Louise furrowed her brows.

"Well…" Madeline thought about it, "No."

"Then how?" Louise asked curiously.

"Ask your mom!" Madeline announced excitedly, as if she just found a cure for cancer.

Louise frowned. "Nah, she spent all our money on my father's bail."

"Oh." Madeline cringed, pulling Louise towards the bar.

And Rory was left there alone. She looked around what she remembered as a beautiful bookstore and sighed. And she didn't see him anywhere.

She took the bottle he placed in her hand and stared at it ungratefully. The cold glass was making her shudder, wishing she was wearing gloves or that she had thermal hands.

"So, first you take me through the gates of hell and now you're trying to get me drunk?" Lane frowned, moving the bottle to her other hand.

"Yup." He replied bluntly, taking a sip from his beer.

"Mama's just going to love this." She said, her voice cynical. 

"Just smile pretty and thank the lord it's not vodka." He smirked.

She cast another glance at her bottle. "Yeah, whatever." She sighed, taking a small sip of the liquid. "Refreshing." She said with a small grimace.

He chuckled at her response. "You'll learn to love it. Trust me."

"Trust you?" She snorted. "Like I'll ever do that."

He rolled his eyes and draped his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the supposedly 'quiet' area, a little away from the speakers.

They sat down, leaning against the wall in the corner of the huge hall. He looked around.

He didn't remember the place to be that large. It always looked smaller with the all the storage rooms they had in there. It was nothing like he remembered it to be.

It hurt. There was nothing left of the bookstore. No memory of his father, non-whatsoever. It made him look around with a bitter feeling.

He caught a glimpse of Sasha. She was sitting in the other side of the room, on a pink fluffy loveseat, near that Mr. Gleason guy that made his life even worse than it was before. She looked deliriously happy, with her champagne and the million-dollar vision. He wished to shatter it. He craved it so much. He unconsciously drank half of the liquid in the bottle he was holding, that's how much he craved it. 

Lane followed his gaze. She recognized the familiar expression on her friend's face and decided to take action, taking his face in her hands and turning it to her direction.

He sighed at her. "Lane…"

"I look better." She justified herself, dropping her hands to her knees.

"I'd like to hear you say that to Sasha." He said, taking another swing of the bottle to his mouth, and she smirked.

"I don't my blood fits all the pink." She joked, casting a glance at the same woman.

"She'd get someone to paint over it." He rolled his eyes, looking into his bottle, spinning it so its content was swirling.

She pulled a thoughtful expression over her face. "Spending Sasha's money. It's an honor." She said, copying him by taking a sip of her own liquid.

He chuckled quietly and brought the bottle to his mouth, only to find that there was only little left in there. He downed it quickly, then tried to balance himself, as he was ready to stand back up.

"I need a refill." He announced, giving him a light intentional kick in the knee as he walked away. She shook her head at him, a smile crawling to her lips.

She needed a drink. Something strong. Really strong. Something like… Liquor or Vodka or Whisky or Jell-O Shots or… 

"One Coke, please." Rory asked the bartender, her feet shuffling back and forth. 

She took another look around. He was still nowhere to be found. Why did she even think he would be there? So what if it's the location of his family's bookstore? Assuming that Jess would come to the grand opening of a fairly pink club named 'Glitter' was the stupidest assumption she had ever made.

The bartender, dressed in a disturbing pink vest, handed her the drink she requested, and she accepted it with a smile. She stared into it for a few moments.

Why did she order a drink? She didn't want a drink. She wanted out. She wanted away.

She kept staring into her bottle. It got her interest. She had no idea why. It was so… not smooth. So sparkly, so bubbly. 

But her illusion was shattered as something made her drop it. She jumped from the noise it made, meeting the floor, and rushed to get away in order not to step into the sparkly, bubbly puddle of coke that was glowing in different colors, thanks to the very stylish floor.

"Sorry." Mumbles a person, and she rolled her eyes. Sorry. That shall do it.

"Don't worry about it." She said indifferently, looking up. And she froze.

And he froze.

And she said nothing.

And he said nothing more.

And she was staring.

"Déjà vu, huh?" He asked, quietly, and she replied with a smile. A really, really, really happy smile.

"Yeah." She said quietly, dreamingly. And he smiled back. 

They both gazed at the floor. He was supposedly mad at her. She was supposedly taken and had moved on. They didn't seem that way.

"They told me you called." He said. "Saying that you moved on."

"I was told you didn't want to speak to me." She sighed.

He clenched his fists. He figured what this was about. He was an idiot to not figure this out earlier. "Sasha." He said with a chuckle, trying to restrain the anger that was building in him.

"I guess." She shrugged. "So, you didn't… I mean, you did…" She started.

"And you didn't… move on." He cut her off, nodding knowingly.

She shook her head. "No." She sighed.

It took them a moment to realize what was happening. They met again. They met after months of absence, after missing each other, wanting each other. And they both smiled.

"Hey." He said softly, feeling more relaxed all of a sudden.

"Hi." She replied quietly, smiling as widely as she could. Before they knew it, their hands were entwined. She felt drawn. He felt like he was drowning.

They stared at each other, only their hand content to pass the streaming electricity from one to the other. It seemed like minutes had passed. Hours. And they were still there.

And he remembered something. Someone.

"Wait here for a second, okay?" He asked her, his eyes practically begging. He had missed her, more than he expected to miss her.

She nodded as he disappeared into the crowd. Their hands lost contact. She felt like she was not whole. She craved for his touch, for his hand in hers. Will she really have it now?

She was watching them from distance. Disgusted. Depressed. Disappointed. The info she got about that girl – the one Jess told her – was one to praise her and describe her as beautiful as she was to him. But she saw her as nothing but a distraction. From her. She was a thing keeping Jess from seeing what's in front of him. And she sighed, drinking the rest of the beer left in the bottle she was holding. 

She looked away. And then there was a tap on her shoulder.

"Lane." She heard her best friend calling. She turned to him, her gaze as cold as it was when she watched them. But the lights were too crazy for him to notice.

"I saw." She said simply, before he got a chance to explain. She saw him smiling softly in return, trying to cover for it with something that made it look like he was actually sorry for what he was about to do.

"I'm sorry." He said, to match his facial expression.

She faked a supporting smile. "Go." She said. He took it as encouraging. She took it as dismissive.

She smiled again, gratefully, placing a light kiss on Lane's temple. And then he was gone. Back to her.

"Finish what we started?" He asked Rory as he came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She slipped out of his embrace and with an approving smile, she took his hand, leading him out of the hideous club.

Lane felt like shattering her bottle against the wall. 

"Vodka looks pretty good right now." She muttered to herself, leaning her head backwards in frustration.


	9. 2002 Stay Another Day

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

Again, sorry for the no updating thing. I don't know how many of you out there are actually interested, but I've had really stressful couple of weeks, and I couldn't do anything. Math sucks. Anyway…

Reviewer _Me_ asked if this is a Lane/Jess fic. It's not. Sorry she puts you in a bad mood, or sorry I put you in a bad mood. I'm following that basic plot I told you all about in the Disclaimer, and Lane that way is kind of required. Sorry in advance. ;)

**Stay Another Day**

There was very little light in the room. She opened her eyes a little, seconds after waking up. She was confused, but she knew exactly what was going on.

She looked around her. He wasn't there.

She turned in her half-sleep. She had no idea what she was doing. She was in too deep.

Her eyes drifted to meet his seemingly concentrated gaze. He was there. He was watching her. He was writing.

"Watcha doing?" She asked sheepishly with a glowing smile on her rosy lips, propping herself up on her forearms.

"Writing." He answered simply, smiling back at her.

"About?" She asked, filled with interest.

He looked down at his paper. "He never cared. Nothing ever caught his interest. Nothing; no event, no weather, no life, no death, no love. It was a crazy world he lived in, and he was well aware that there was nothing for him to look for in it. Sometimes, his only wish was to crawl up a hole in the wall and rot there until he'd die. And then she. She was one to crawl into him. Her scent was spread into his realm. Her being covered his. She was a light. She looked silent and still, but she was a light. He still wanted to crawl into his wall. He still felt like rotting. But now, he wasn't interested in doing it alone." He read to her.

She gazed at her hands, a slight blush rising to her cheek. "King of Sap strikes again." She joked, her voice sounding almost overwhelmed.

He shrugged. "It's your fault." He told her, and she looked back at him.

"I'm proud to be at fault." She said. In, way too deep.

He said nothing. He just rose up from the small wooden stool he sat on and moved to sit next to her.

"Here." He handed her the paper.

She raised an eyebrow. "For me?" She asked, and he nodded. "Thank you." She smiled gratefully, going over the written once again.

"I can't risk anyone finding this here, anyway." He said, only half-serious. "I'm never that sappy."

"I never knew I had such an affect on people." She grinned. He replied with a soft kiss. One she could have only dreamt about a couple of days ago. 

He pulled away. She opened her eyes to see him smile. 

It was amazing to know that she's not dreaming. That it's real. That he's here, next to her. She was able to feel his breath on her skin, to feel his hair through her fingers. And it was real. And it was incredible.

And it was depressing. "What's time is it?" She asked, looking around for a clock.

He reached under his pillow and pulled his watch out. "9:43am." He replied, tossing the watch on his desk.

She sighed. She wanted to stay. But she had to go. She had to go back to her town. It was enough that she spent the night in New York, she couldn't spend more than that in there.

She called her mom the previous night. Said she'll be staying with a friend. A friend no one knew about. She never told her mom about him. She created an imaginary friend to fill for him whenever it was needed.

Her mom wasn't fond of the idea, but Rory was one to trust.

So there she was. She was silent for way too long. He was getting worried.

"Rory?" He asked, gently, trying to follow her eyes down her road of thoughts.

"I have to go." She said quietly. His smiling eyes were no longer smiling. They were narrowed at her perfect figure. He didn't want her to go. He wanted her to stay.

"Don't go." He asked, taking her hand in his.

"I don't want to go." She said, her voice drowning in a pool of despair. A wave of heat went through her as she felt Jess's hand on hers. A feeling of comfort, of safety. She wasn't ready to let that go. 

"Then don't." He insisted, looking down at their hands, running his fingers against her skin.

She sighed again. "I told my mom I'll be home by noon." She told him.

"Tell her you're staying." He offered, his eyes darting up to meet hers.

"For how long?" She furrowed her brows.

He shrugged. "A day, a month, a year, forever. I don't know."

Her brows rose up in surprise. "You want me to live here?" She rhetorically asked, chuckling nervously.

"Is that a serious question?" He asked.

"I can't stay." She sighed. She couldn't. She wanted to. She couldn't.

"Why not?" He asked, his eyes reflecting as much despair as hers did.

"I've got school." She said matter-of-factly.

"You're on Spring Break." He reminded her.

"I've got homework." She kept insisting. She had no idea why she was insisting. She wanted to stay. 

"Ask your mom to send them over." He suggested.

She chuckled, thinking how ridicules she would sound, talking to her mom. "'Hey, mom, I'm spending the break with this guy at his house. Can you send me my books?'" She quoted what seemed like the most logical way to present the request. 

She was scared. That was it. It sounded crazy, but she wanted it so, so much. And she was scared. And it was crazy.

And she was scared.

He shrugged. "You could stay at your dad's."

"I could stay on the streets." She replied, obviously joking.

He nodded in agreement. "Sounds reasonable." He replied. He seemed too serious. It was disturbing.

"Jess." She chuckled, her tone playfully warning.

"I could feed you." He teased, his face still serious.

"Stop!" She still chuckled, and his lips broke into a smile.

"You're staying." He said, his voice in a note just between ordering and asking.

She paused. "Only if you'll feed me.

He smirked. "Do you like Pizza?"

"Duh." She giggled.

"Well, I have to stock on something." He continued.

"I'm good with what I've got so far." She smiled. And he smiled back.

He leaned in to kiss her again. It seemed like nothing can stop this. Nothing could possibly interrupt them and make the magic of every kiss, ever touch, every word fade away. 

She kissed him back. 

Nothing.


	10. 2002 I Say Jump, You Say How High?

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

Again, sorry for the no updates. I need inspiration. I might go to watch the musical again next week. It might help.

Reviewer _Seehoo_, you rock. ;) I know what you mean about the summary… I hate long summaries. I love my summary. But you're right. I guess I'll add a little to it. ;)

_Tye_, you crack me up. :D I love stalkers. ;) Um, the name is basically Alexis Leigh, which is a name I love, and Mariano, which is, uh, well. ;) I have a complex with updating, but I'm planning to get back to "Everything it Wasn't" after I'm done with this and um, another fic that is not posted here. :$ But Thankies. You rock mucho socks. :D

**I Say Jump, You Say "How High"**

He placed the tray on the dining table. 

"Pizza." He announced with a grin, sitting opposite of her on the kitchen table.

"Oh, god." She growled playfully. "You're taking this way too far."

"What?" He smirked. "I say I'd feed you Pizza." He said matter-of-factly, folding his arms and leaning them on the table.

"Every single day?" She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded, confirming it as he echoed her, "Every single day."

"To tell you the truth, I'm getting pretty sick of it." She half-grinned.

"Yeah, well." He stood up and walked to the refrigerator, placing a kiss on Rory's cheek as he walked past her. "You'll live."

"Or I'll strangle myself with the box." She disagreed, turning to look at him. He glanced at her with raised brows and she smiled sweetly in reply.

"You gotta stop doing that." He shook his head, pulling a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. Her smile drove him crazy.

She drove him crazy. They drove each other crazy, both in the good and in the bad senses of the word. 

But they've dealt. They've settled.

They became closer. They became one.

It's been a little more than a week. Just a week, but still, it changed them. They managed to learn a lot about each other, from annoying little habits to their deepest secrets. Well, some. A nightly routine of Truth or Dare games helped bring some facts out. Along with occasional 'I dare you to kiss me' bits. 

They spent some nights, just talking. About his loss, about her past, about his dreams to reopen his dad's bookstore, a dream that was revamped after his dad's death, as before, he just wanted to help with it. She told him about her big dreams. Too go to Harvard. To see the world and to live to tell about it, as someone who matters. A journalist. An overseas correspondent. 

They managed to avoid the obstacles. Like Sasha. But she didn't get even anywhere near the room, for the obvious – and not so obvious – reasons. He managed to get her to not care. Well, not for long. There were nights Rory went to her dad's, just so the three of them – Rory, Jess, Sasha - would be able to get some rest. Not minding the fact that only one of the three needed it.

But he knew. Even if something was to go wrong, he would fix it. They would fix it together.

The day went by quickly. Too quickly. But they couldn't avoid the sunrise. This one, or any of them, marking the new day. Marking the end of the time they've spent together. A few days and she'll have to go back home.

He went out for a few minutes, asked her to wait for him at the house. She was going through his CD collection, loving the fact that they share the same taste. As long as it's not too much of it.

She grinned and shook her head. If he went out to get Pizza…

She dropped the last CD she looked at back on its pile, and sat down near his small table. She opened his second drawer and took out the paper he told her. What he wrote. She loved reading it.

She smiled, resting it on the desk beside her. She just smiled. She returned it to the drawer and closed it shut. She looked down at the blank piece of paper. It caught her attention. Although it was blank. It was blank and it caught her attention.

She grabbed a pen. It was calling her name. The pen, the paper. She started writing. Everything. All that she's been through in the last few months required it. It required her documentation. And she wanted to remember. Not that she'll even manage to forget.

Time had passed. He was still away.

She was thirsty. Knowing that she's home alone, she climbed down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. The day she got her, Jess told her to 'make herself at home', and she did just that.

She looked around. It surprised her. Even though he lived there all his life, the house was so tacky. So not Jess. With all that he told her, she figured Sasha took over this place as well. She despised her for him. It was second-handed.

Entering the ceramic-designed kitchen, she paused. A stranger was sitting in the kitchen.

"Ex…cuse me?" She asked hesitatingly, not knowing what or who or… what. Her mom told her to never talk to strangers. Well, she didn't, really. But she knew it was wrong.

The stranger turned in his chair. He looked too… weird, to be dangerous. "Yes?" He asked.

"Who are you?" She kept on. It felt weird. It wasn't her house yet she was asking questions.

"Here." He replied.

"I get that." She laughed nervously. Oh, what the heck. Jess told her to make herself at home. "But, _who_ are you?" She repeated.

"Oh." He paused, before reaching to offer her his hand. "Gleason. Kirk. Kirk Gleason." 

It took her a few moments, but she just gave it. It's just a handshake. "Rory." She said.

He released his hand. "What are you doing here?" He asked, turning back to his former position.

"Uh…" She was about to answer when she mentally slapped herself. "You. Right back at you."

"I'm just waiting for the Mrs." He said casually, bending forward to smell a flower.

"The… Mrs.?" She asked, and he replied. "Sasha. Club issues."

She nodded understandingly. "Okay then." She sighed. "I'll just…" She headed for the fridge and took a bottle of water out just as she opened it. Without saying a word, she went past him and followed.

He looked at her suspiciously. It was after a few moments of staring that he rose up and followed her.

She was back at the desk. Sitting. Drinking. Writing. Steaming.

He stood at the entrance and stared. 

She kept writing. About her. About him. About how she met him. About how she knew he met her. The same way, hey. About them. Them. About… was someone looking at her?

She turned around, jumping in place as she saw the figure of that weird stranger. "God!" She exclaimed, her hand unnoticeably rising to hold her chest.

"Sorry." He said. Not meaning it, of course.

"What are you doing?!" She asked, more than a little freaked out.

"Watching." He said plainly.

"Why?" She asked, feeling like she should run away.

"Just…" He shrugged.

"Stalking?" She tried to complete his sentence, but he shook his head, giving no specific reply.

"What are you doing?" He asked, moving forward to check the paper her spotted on the desk before her.

"What is it to you?" She asked, trying to defend it – and her – with voice.

"What are you writing?" He asked getting closer.

"Nothing." She replied nonchalantly. Well, she wished it was nonchalant.

_"Never knew so much pain could lead to a whole different kind of pain,_" He quoted the only line he managed to read, "Well well well."

"Stop it!" She ordered. 

He got closer. She tried to protect it with her hands, but he moved them. She just sat her as he read her. Read all that she felt, all that she was.

"If it wasn't all that sappy, I'd say you write pretty well." He said, impressed. 

She was silent.

"Ever done that professionally?" He kept asking, snatching the paper from her to get a closer look at it.

She sighed, defeated. "Writing?" She asked, and he nodded.

"No." She replied.

"You should." He told her.

"I want to." She admitted.

He placed it back on the desk. He started walking, saying nothing. The silence was eerie to her.

"I bet I can arrange something." He said.

"Arrange?" She frowned.

"A job. A good one. Somewhere." He told her.

"You?" She frowned again, and he nodded.

"I'm an expert," He smirked lightly, "Dear. I have connections everywhere."

"You're going to get me a job?" She asked, not knowing if he meant it. Not knowing if to believe him. Not knowing if to trust him.

"With talent like yours, I can get you everywhere." He said.

She didn't know if to be flattered or if to be scared.

He just kept walking.

"Well…" She sighed, too curiously to back away. "Where?" She asked. "New York, Hartford…?"

"Are you kidding?" He cut in her words. "Think big, girl!" He ordered. "I'm going to start with LA, get you on a plane to Europe!"

"I'm just 18!" She cried defensively… although if what the guy was saying is true… it was more that quite appealing.

"So?" He asked.

"So?" She asked in reply. "I'm a minor! I have school! I have a family, I have…"

"You have talent!" He cut in her words again. "You said you want this! Go ahead and get this! You can leave everything behind, you should! This is what you are."

She sighed. She didn't know what to say. He took it as a sign.

"Wait until you graduate if you want to." He sighed, pulling a card out of his pocket, glancing at it before presenting it to her. "Call me when you ready." He said before he turned to walk away.

She stared at it. There was so mistrust in her eyes, some doubt, some fear. But a lot of interest.


	11. 2002 Let Go

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

Yes, took me ages again. But my school year's coming to an end soon, meaning less pressure, meaning more time. :D

**Let Go**

The paper lying on the desk in front of her remained untouched. Everything she had wrote before seemed to fade.

She was confused. But she was excited. But she was confused. But she was excited. But she was…

"Hey." A voice startled her, and she dropped the card that she held so firmly in her delicate palm.

"Oh." She calmed as she saw his slightly frowning face. "Sorry."

"Did I scare you?" He asked as he passed near her, pecking her on her forehead as he did.

He places his bags in the length of his writing desk and she quickly moved to cover the paper with her forearms, at the same time as her leg traveled along the cold floor tiles, eventually sensing the card beneath her fingers, tucking it under her foot.

"I was just thinking." She replied.

He nodded. "Okay."

Her eyes darted to the dark bags he placed in front of her. 

"It's too small for Pizza." She commented.

"Not when you bend it." He joked, and she only gave a small chuckle in reply.

"Chinese." He retorted, and his expression broke through its sudden freeze as he noticed the now happily surprised look on her face. "I'll go get plates." He said, heading out.

Her smile uncontrollably faded as she watched him go.

How much was she willing to let go of?

It was dark. It was night. Her time was almost over. Her vacation would end soon and she'd have to choose the direction she'd go back to – either to her past, or to her mysteriously bright-looking future.****

_"You said you want this! Go ahead and get this!" _Her mind spoke. 

She saw it through her closed eyes. She tried to fight it somehow, in her numb body. 

_"You can leave everything behind, you should! This is what you are."_

She stirred. She was almost able to feel him placing the card in her hand. It was impossible to explain, especially since she was sleeping. But even though, it was so… real. More real than anything she ever had in a dream before.

It wasn't just real; it was too real. She felt it pressed against her skin, pushed into her flesh, persuading her to do… something.

She woke up with a start. Her eyes bolted open, staring straight at the blank ceiling. The ticking of a clock, which she had no idea where was placed, was driving her crazy.

She turned to her side. She saw him sleeping next to her.

She sighed. Gently tracing her thin finger along the outline of his face, trying not to wake him up.

His slightly moist skin felt perfect against her finger. His sweet, natural smell was intoxicating. She tried to think of the exact moment in their short time they've known each other, where she had fallen in love with him. All signs pointed to nothing. It was just… there. And again, it scared her. Its strength scared her. What it meant? It scared her. It scared her a lot. All that he, that it, made her do, or think… or not do and think…

She fought a tear that was streaming down from the corner of her eye. She draw her hand back quickly and clenched her fist, trying to protect her fingers from making contact with his skin again.

She sat up and carefully slipped out of the blanket.

A whole lot, apparently.

It was her first time out there. A porch. She liked porches. It had a roof to make it home-y, but it was freeing as any place outside was.

She held a warn cup of coffee between her cold hands. Surprisingly, the liquid hasn't been sipped from. 

She stared into the darkness. 

Darkness.

Thoughts were going around in her head. Thoughts she wasn't able to control. They were going by so fast that she wasn't even able to catch up with them. She always sucked when it comes to Catch. 

She took a deep breath, inhaling the cold breeze that sweeped by her. Her eyes felt like they were about to finally break into tears.

He reached his hand out for her. He got used to doing it, even if he was only half-conscious. He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist, hold her close. Let his sleeping form get a reminder of her rosy scent that will inspire a sweet dream of her.

But his arms had nothing to wrap around. It hit the mattress beneath him.

His eyes opened slowly to reveal… nothing. She wasn't there. 

It was late. He was able to tell. But he just got up, letting himself release a yawn, and allowed his heart to follow her traces.

"There you are."

His soft, sleepy voice sounded like a hammer as it fell on her trail of thoughts. She looked up at him. Her voice said nothing. Her eyes, on the other hand…

"I was looking all over for you." He continued, slowly moving towards her.

"I found this spot." She said quietly, and he took it with a nod.

"You like it here?" He asked, sitting next to her, against the balcony.

"It's nice." She replied, still looking into nothing. "Peaceful."

He moved his hands backwards, to support him as he sat. "It is rather quiet in here." He agreed.

Her head turned to look at him. "You come here often?" She asked, her face not even bothering to change expressions.

He sighed. "Sometimes." He replied, wishing he was wearing something other than a t-shirt to protect his arms from the cold.

She looked down at her palms, resting in her lap.

"My dad used to like it here." He said as his tone softened. His eyes saddened. She thought he looked just like a little boy who was looking into the sky, trying to look for the balloon he had let go of and lost. She was able to hear it, just from the way he talked.

She didn't look at him now. Hearing him was all that she was able to do. 

She said nothing. He remained silent. She replied with silence.

She gulped hard.

"I'm leaving." She said, her voice to fragile that it broke under the mass of emotions that was flooding her.

He knew. "Your vacation is coming to an end soon." He sort of explained, and she just shook her head. It was almost unnoticeable. It was more to herself than to anyone else.

"No." She breath, "Not back home."

"Where to?" He frowned, and she shrugged.

"LA… Europe… Wherever." She replied ever so plainly.

His eyes narrowed at her. It seemed like she didn't even care.

"Why?" He asked, trying not to let too many hints of emotion slip into it. 

She swallowed some spit that gathered at her throat. It felt heavy. It almost hurt.

"Because I can." She deadpanned.

And it hurt.

"Why?" He repeated. "You have life waiting for you back at home, you've got…"

"You." She completed. She was still cold. Physically, emotionally.

"Yeah." He said, hoping he broke through.

She shook her head. "I have to do this." She said. To him, to herself. "This is my future, and… it's better late than never."

"Better late than never?" His voice suddenly rose. "You… you're young! You have time to… grow and evolve and… all that other clichéd crap!" He exclaimed, his emotions getting the better but worse of him.

She shut her eyes. "You knew I was going to leave eventually." She reminded him, her eyes trying to block her from the rest of the world.

"Yeah, but you were supposed to go back to Stars Hollow! Where it only takes a drive to meet, not a…"

"I have to do this." She repeated, harsher than before, her voice now full of emotion. She sounded like she was going to cry any second now. 

He didn't know what to say. She seemed too stiff to break through.

"Don't you even care about…"

"What, you?" She asked, her eyes finally welling with tears.

He replied with silence. That was his answer. He bit his lip and looked down, giving her his answer.

She rose up.

"I have to go." She said, entering the house again, leaving him to watch her, shocked and amazed. And heartbroken. And powerless.

He had no idea why. 

And neither did she. 


	12. 2003 War of Nerves

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. Title of this chapter is, erm, borrowed from an All Saints song going by that very same title.

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

**War of Nerves**

**_2003_**

He has been counting; it's been 229 days since she left.

He felt pathetic. But that's what he became when she left. When she left him. That how she left… him. Closed, paranoid, pathetic.

He was empty. He was nothing. He was never this empty… never this full of absolutely nothing, nothing at all.

After his father died… he felt so alone. No one, not even Lane, was able to help him through it. 

And then she came.

Like a strong gust of wind, she blew him away. Like a hand with a healing touch, she made his pain go away. Like a yellow brick road, she leaded him somewhere safe. Somewhere real.

And then she took off, and he was thrown back to the pile of crap he was used to living in. To the wrong road, to his unsafe, surreal world, dwelling in his pain, hiding behind a mask that was there to help him shield from those he knew would take advantage of his sudden sheer vulnerability. 

Everything around him was going right. Lily and Sasha's club was blooming, along with their bank accounts. Lane was still the same, the same same that she always was, that never got into any shitty situations or serious trouble. Everything was marching down the right lane, running straight through traffic lights, driving smoothly through the bumpiest roads, without even getting a ticket. Ever.

And only he was stuck in place. Always. Trying to move forward, but getting stuck. Having to use U-turns to bring him back to right where he started, right to where he wanted to escape from. 

And her? He had no idea. Did he care? He cared. He really wished he didn't care, but he did care.

And then, something hit him.

Literally.

"Jess!" Her voice echoed in his ears, way louder than it was supposed to be. "Focus!" 

She lowered her book after hitting him in the head with it, looking at him. She was sick and tired of this, of him being such a mop because of a girl. And not only because she wasn't the girl, but she was really - well, kind of – just wishing he would finally come to his senses.

"Sorry." He muttered, and she sighed.

"Have you heard anything I said?" She asked, and he replied with a sigh. "Anything at all?" She asked, her tone, heart and mind walking on the thin line between despair and frustration.

"Fine." She sighed, piling the book on top of the rest of the books she had brought with her. "It's your grade, anyway. I don't see why I even bother." She stated, standing up, taking the books in her arms.

He lifted his arm and held it before her, trying to stop her from proceeding. "Lane…" He tried. But he was never good with trying. "I'm sorry, okay?" He told her, and the harsh look in her eyes immediately softened. It only took her a few seconds to give in to his charm. 

"Whatever." She tried to sound tough and rolled her eyes, sitting back down. "But if I catch you staring at the wall one more time…" She starts, pausing for dramatic effect. "I might make you repeat everything I said. Or write it 150 times on that very wall. Or leave. It's your choice."

"Just sit." He begged. "Please?"

She wordlessly picked up the book she was holding earlier and threw it at his lap. He replied with a glare. She knew this glare. She knew that underneath the glare, his eyes were actually smiling at her. And she knew it's the closest thing she'll get to him being actually happy around her at this time.

She looked so different. About seven years older than she actually was. Her pale skin was emphasized by ridicules dark eye shadows and a fiery-red lipstick that her supposed manager made her wear. The smooth hair that usually fell straight on her shoulders was up in a very tidy bun, pinned to her head in a way that made it pull and ache. Her body was covered by a limiting gray business suit that didn't exactly flatter her thin figure, and her delicate legs were carried on high-heeled shoes that were very uncomfortable to walk in. The noise it made as it met the floor drove her nuts.

"Kirk." She called rather dryly, examining her figure in a body-length mirror.

"Yes?" The guy came behind her, examining her head to toe.

"I don't like this." She stated, wiping some imaginary dust from the fabric of her skirt.

"But it looks fine." He told her. She spun to him, looking in his eyes.

"I don't like it." She repeated.

He shook his head and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her, causing her to unwillingly look at the mirror again. She let out a small gasp of surprise, and tried to keep herself from stumbling down her heels.

"It fits." He explained. "Deal with it."

"It's not me." It was her time to explain.

"Well, it's you now." He gave her a small, mocking smile. One that irritated her way beyond belief.

"It's not me! Not now, not ever!" She exclaimed, and he just shook his head as he looked at her.

She did her best to not fall apart. "Look." She started. "This is not me. This was never supposed to be me." She took a deep breath. "Where I am isn't where I was supposed to be, and you know it, you always did." 

She felt like she was about to pop. "You came to me. You told me I have talent. You told me you'll make me big and… what? I'm standing here in a sleazy, supposedly expensive hotel, when my job is to look around, mingle and look for dirt about the who's and what's who are staying here?!" She asked, trying very hard to keep her calm.

The past few months haven't been what she expected. Not at all. Instead of writing about what she wanted to write, or becoming an intern, learning about the wonders of being an overseas correspondent, she was set to be a gossip column writer, without getting the smallest credit. Not that she was proud of it, but at least something for doing her job would've been helpful. She really couldn't have been happier.

Yeah. Right.

"You thought your way in was going to be easy?" Kirk asked her, perking a half-amused eyebrow.

"I never thought it was going to be this! I'm writing a freaking gossip column for a local paper that didn't at all require me… getting away! This is not what I came here for!" She felt like she was on the verge of tears.

"Well, that's what it is." He told her, sternly, leaving the room.

She was remained in the dressing room, looking at her reflection. She wasn't able to recognize the one she saw there.

Her Cellphone rang. She tried to stable herself as she walked to her bag, which was rested on the floor, and took it out, going back to stand in front of the mirror.

"Hello?" She asked. A small smile came to her lips as she heard a familiar voice. "Hi, mom." She said warmly into the phone. It was the warmest tone she had used in days. "Everything's okay. I, uh, don't have much time to talk, I have work to do, but…"

She had work to do. Ha. 

Her throat held in a mocking laugh that was waiting to come out.

She nodded into the phone. "Okay. I'll talk to you later." 

She laughed weakly; a laugh that carried her mocking laughter with it. 

"Are you sure everything's okay?" Asked her mother from the other line.

"Yup." She tried to sound as confident as can be. Her 'profession' required a whole lot of faking, and it eventually got to her. Still looking at the mirror, she saw the reflection's eyes watering. Her eyes followed a tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"Everything's fine." She answered. She was so confident in words, but it was nothing like she felt inside.

It such short time, she became something different. She felt like a fraud.

She noticed her reflection slowly breaking down to the ground. She hugged her knees to her chest through the very thick fabric of the skirt she was wearing. Tears were still streaming down her face.

It was heartbreaking.

Too bad her emotions weren't working straight ever since she left.


	13. 2003 All I Have and Don't

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see. 

I know that Kirk, in this story, is… very not Kirk-ish. But I just had to get someone to fit in this mold of a role I needed. And while I couldn't write Kirk even just as Kirk, and even if my life depended on it… I beg you to be considerate. 

**All I Have and Don't**

It was over.

School. School was over.

Finally. School made him feel like he was locked inside a cage. And like 98% percent of the students all over the world, he hated school. Well, that was only an estimate. But he was never able to understand those… people. Those how actually enjoyed school. Those who actually wake up every day, early in the morning, willingly, just to study. It seemed ridiculously stupid to him. School did nothing to him. He felt more educated after watching _Smurfs_. 

Everybody always told him he was smart. Well, not everybody. But no matter how smart he thought he was, or how smart Lane told him he was, or how his father used to insist that he was smart enough to do anything, or how Sasha always told him he was a mindless idiot… okay, that wasn't in place, but… he never saw himself as one to work with his mind. He wasn't planning on going to college. He hated thinking too much, he hated homework, he hated papers, he hated test. What was school to doubt his intelligence and knowledge, anyway?

But he did it. He studied. He thought too much, he did his homework, he handed a paper, he was tested. He still wasn't planning on going further with the splendid wide knowledge he gained, but he graduated. He had no idea how, though.

He knew he owed it all to Lane. She pulled him up when he was down. She sat on his head – almost literally – so he would get back to himself. So he'll stop pining and move on with his life. She gave him material to read, books to study from, and didn't agree to go until he knew all he needed to know.

He hated her for that.

But he was grateful. Somewhere within that hectic time period, he thought he had actually managed to somehow get over her, if only just a little. Somewhere in there, he had actually lost his count.

"To Graduated seniors!" Lane raised her bottle.

He lifted his own bottle, as he was seated opposed her. "To finally being able to burn down the school without getting suspended." He chuckled quietly.

She stared at him for a moment. Her face expressed something that looked like a very confused frown.

"What about getting arrested?" She asked, and he replied with a shrug, followed by another chuckle.

"To not getting caught." He offered, raising his bottle a little higher.

She grinned as she echoed, "To not getting caught", then clicked her bottle with his. 

She sipped from her drink, holding on to the tip of her straw. The only thing he was able to do at the sight was to stare at her, overly amused.

And she noticed. And she looked up at him.

"What?" She asked, like what she did was… normal. At least, that was what he thought.

"You're aware of the fact that you're drinking beer with a straw." He stated, his tone rather questioning. His lips wore his famous-but-infamous smirk. 

She just nodded. "Mmhm." She replied, with the straw still hogged between her thin lips.

"And I assume you're aware of the fact that… people don't usually drink beer through a straw." He kept going. 

She felt his mocking gaze on her, feeling it was burning two deep holes into her forehead. But she was used to it. She kind of liked it. There was a time where he wasn't even in the mood to mock her. That was the time to really get him back on track, she knew. She was relieved when he started mocking her again. Besides, his mocking was always amusing and in good taste. Well, sometimes. With her.

God, no wonder people called her a masochist. 

She let the straw slip down and drown in the bottle as she opened her mouth to speak. "All straight lines eventually get to a point. I'm begging you, do the same." She raised a brow at him, causing him to roll his eyes.

He said nothing for a moment. Then another moment passed in silence, and another.

"You're a strange girl." He eventually said.

She grinned proudly. "I know." She replied.

He smiled at her. She loved his smile. It was awkward in its own little way, cute in its own little way… enchanting, in its own little way. 

She was in too deep. And she smiled back.

He reached to grab his beer and sipped from it. She rescued the straw from sinking in too deep, like she did, and brought it back into her mouth.

"If you were a tree, what tree would you be?" She read off the paper that she held in her hand. It sounded as forced and uncomfortable as she herself felt. Forced and obviously, uncomfortable.

Not only was she sitting in a cocky bar, on a cocky stool next to a cocky sure-she's-oh-so-super model with horrible, cocky music playing in the background, but also she wasn't even allowed to ask her own questions. She started feeling a little relieved that she wasn't getting her well-deserved credit. Still.

"A tree?" The blonde sitting next to her laughed. She hated that girl's condescending laugh. "I don't thing I'm able to be a tree. I don't really want to be a tree." She said. "Trees are so dull and like, fat. I won't be caught dead with my waist as wide as a trunk." She stated as her eyes wondered down to Rory's suit-covered body. She raised a mocking eyebrow as she begun. "You, on the other hand…"

Rory felt enraged enough to hit the girl. She had never actually hit anyone, but in the past few months, she was more than ready to begin.

Before she was ready to flame back at her, a rather large woman came to stand behind the blonde, smiling a fake cocky smile. She was almost bewildered by the fact that cocky people have to fake cocky smiles. But that was a different story for a different time, possibly the one where she'll be out of the mess she put herself into. Meaning she was never going to open her mouth again.

"I'm… afraid your time is up." The large woman said. "Thank you." The woman forced out, then unwillingly reaching to shake her hand. Rory, just as unwillingly, took it.

"Thank you for your time." Rory said, her lips curving into the fake smile that her lips wore so very often. She followed the two with her eyes as they got up and left, whispering and laughing rowdily. Her eyes. The same ones that were as miserable as her heart was.

She waited until they were completely gone and excused herself to the bathroom. Her over-the-knees length, made of an extremely rough fabric, made her walk much clumsier than it was supposed to be.

She tried to find a quiet corner where she reached into her purse, grabbing her Cellphone. She clicked 'one' on her speed dial and held her phone next to her ear, waiting for a proof of life from the other side of the line.

And it came. "Gleason." 

His voice really started to annoy her. "That is my promotion?" She asked, practically scowling.

"Yes." 

The simplicity of his voice was driving her crazy.

"Me, sitting in a bar, interviewing a brainless model. That is my promotion?" She asked again. Her free fist actually clenched as she tried to not burst.

"Yes." He repeated. Remember the hitting thing?

"I… I…" She started, shutting her eyes. She was in a lost of words.

"You came here because you wanted to be an overseas correspondent and I do nothing to help you with it. I know." He completed. God, the voice!

She just sighed. What else did she have to say? That was basically the main point she always tried making to him. She leaned against the wall.

"At least this didn't involve a cow." She tried to make the best of it. Well, not an actual cow, anyway.

"You never did anything with a cow." He denied.

"I reported straight from a location where the annual Cows' Beauty Pageant was held." She reminded him, angrily.

"You did not." He tried.

"I witnessed milking. It was gross." She stated.

"Nope." He deadpanned.

"I can't close my eyes at night without seeing someone squeezing milk out of a cow's guts." She winced.

"Nope." He repeated in the same nonchalant tone.

"It was stupid, it was gross, it was nothing and I still haven't got my credit." She was really holding in now.

He sighed. "What exactly do you want from me?" He asked her from the other line.

Anything but this, she thought. Her old life, maybe. Her family, her friends, him. But she couldn't say anything. She just sighed.

"I'll see you tomorrow at eight." He said, hanging up. 

She lowered her arm, not bothering to do anything with her Cellphone. She stared into space. Into the dim-lighted hall that was fogged by cigarette smoke.

It was depressing to think that it was all she had.


	14. 2004 Still

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see. 

Thank you Ali (Holly Gilmore) and Megan (Innerspace) for helping me with ideas. They shall be used. At the meanwhile, read their fics. They rocks all of my socks. Some of my brothers', too. Thank you daddy, for suffering through my endless rants and coming up with great ideas. Oh, and thanks to everyone who has ever helped. My stars-hollow.org betas, my everyone. 

**Still**

**_2004_**

It was a bit chilly outside. The skies, usually light blue at this time, were painted gray. Some of the trees surrounding him gave in to the blowing wind, letting some leafs drop from the branches and get sweeped away. The branches danced in rhythmical motions to the sound of silence.

He stood, motionless.

All that was around him treated him as a stranger. He wasn't surprised. It's been a while since he had been there. It seemed like time stood still in this place. Like nothing was changed in it and like it changed nothing.

That was so wrong.

He hated it there. Well, who didn't? 

Everything around him was so… quiet. So still, so dead. 

Not surprisingly.

He stared down at those letters. Those eternal letters that were carved in stone, forever to remain where they were. '_Elizabeth Mariano, 1962-1995'_'. 

He hated how simple those letters looked. Like it was nothing, like it didn't matter.

It's been nine years since his mother died. Nine years. Nine freaking years. 

Nine. Small but a big number. Turn it around and it's six. Add one and it's ten. 

So he stood there, motionless, his arms crossed against his chest, partly to shield himself from the cold, partly because he just had nothing to do with his hands. He had to do something with his hands.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Was it okay to just stand there and let vague memories flood his mind? Because honestly, he hated being reminded of things he preferred to suppress. 

Was he supposed to get a single red rose to place on the grave? Was he supposed to talk to his dead mother, wishing she would talk back? Was he supposed to cry over her grave and wish for her to pop out and hug him, telling him everything's going to be all right?

He actually considered doing one of those, just to silence his endless trains of painfully annoying thoughts. But he declined the idea. He wasn't that pathetic.

He visited his father's grave earlier. He considered himself lucky to have those two graves pretty close one to the other, to spare him some energy.

Funny. He never thought he would consider anything including a cemetery or the death of his parents something to feel lucky about.

His attention fell back on the grave in front of him. He noticed that the letters were beginning to fade. He would have to contact someone about that before it would be completely erased by the rain. 

He wondered how it was down there. If it was quiet, if it was peaceful. If it was better than it was up here.

He never thought he would make it. And not only to this place, in its actual meaning. But in its spiritual meaning. He was surprised how well he was holding on.

Well. Right.

His hands uncrossed and went down into the pockets of his jeans. Something to do with his hands.

He sighed.

He glanced at his mother's name one more time before he turned his head away, turned his body away, and walked. Walked away.

A figure was standing outside, leaning against a metal fence, arms crossed. Waiting.

He passed by her and stopped, his eyes wandering around, looking at everything and nothing.

"Ready?" She asked him, trying to catch his gaze.

And she did. The indifferent yet pained glow in his eyes told her it was time to go. She draped her arm around his shoulders and walked him back into the car, on to wherever it was. Where it was better. 

She was beginning to like that sound.

_One step, two step, three step, four._

She walked through the corridors of the building she hated the most. Whoever designed it was either blind or just really insane.

_Five step, six step, seven-eight-nine._

She liked how powerful it made her sound. How noticeable. Not to the crowd, though. To herself.

It's not like anyone noticed her, or knew who she was, anyway. She was ought to have something to keep her mind quiet.

She pushed through a horrifying see-through door with overdone golden… ugly things on it. 

She walked through it, letting it slam behind her.

_Ten._

She was surprised after all the times she allowed it to slam against its doorframe, how it was still whole. How it never broke, never cracked.

She wanted it to break. Just once.

Her shoes kept thumping as she realized she was there. Even though she walked through that very same road at least once a week, she still didn't know it by heart. Her mind always found something to think about while she was walking. She would get distracted and pay no attention to where she was going. She actually got lost a few times.

She straightened her sweater and ran her hand along the smooth lines of her skirt.

Her legs changed their direction and she turned, heading for a door. Her eyes quickly scanned that '_Gleason, Kirk_' name that was written so niftily on the door. He didn't deserve it.

She pushed it open. She secretly wished she could do the same thing for the actual person.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked, her eyebrows going up. Walking into the room, she saw that Kirk, who was sitting with his hands entwined looking as ridiculous as always, wasn't alone. There was another ridiculous-looking man in there. Yippee?

"As a matter of fact…" Kirk leaned forward, "Yes."

Big surprise. Especially when considering the fact he said that like a million times before. That very same line. Clever, it was.

She glanced over at the other man, sitting on a different chair with his legs crossed, his arms crossed, his face… well, not crossed. 

He looked… tired. A bit sleazy, rather? As he looked at her, his eyes reminded her of a snake. That wasn't very relaxing. But he looked serious. More serious than Kirk ever looked to her.

"Ms. Gilmore." Kirk started again. His hand rose to motion over at snake-guy. "Rob Cohen."

He remained as he was. Rob the snake guy, that is. His eyes still pierced through the fabric of her outfit.

"Hello." She greeted halfheartedly with a slight nod of her head. Snake guy was still as he was before.

The room was silent. She hated it. She hated to have uncomfortable silence in a place she was already uncomfortable to be at.

Kirk's chair made a noise that broke the silence. Not the mood, though.

"Mr. Cohen here is in charge of the Politics and Government section." Kirk added. Snake guy was still staring. It started to freak her out. "Anyway…"

He rose up from his seat and started pacing a step forward, a step back. Some pacing. "He was impressed. He wants to try you out."

It was so simple, yet so… meaningful? If she wasn't to find it flattering and somewhat exciting, she would probably be offended. But… she wasn't big. She wasn't even small. She wasn't a name or a status. She was an object, hidden behind a curtain of false hopes and some naiveté.

"How was he impressed?" She asked, her eyes once again moving to the guy who still didn't move. "I was never even credited for my work." She reminded him, her voice hinting the bitterness she felt.

"I leaked." He said, simply. His tone was displeased, almost, and she was confused in terms of what to make of it. She didn't know if to frown or roll her eyes. "He did some research." He continued, making a small hand gesture. "And here we are."

Kirk sighed and went back to his chair while snake guy sat still. He was studying her; she felt it. She tried not to be caught glancing at him as he was glancing at her, and that was almost none-stop. She was beginning to wonder if he was even breathing.

She had no idea what to say. A small voice in the back of her head was screaming of joy, and she did her best to silence its enthusiasm, fearing it wasn't real.

Eventually caught staring, her eyes as they locked with Rob's sent a wave of confusion over her. As she woken up from that sudden daze, his face was completely different. He was leaning back now, his lips curved to something that on some countries would be considered a smile. His arms were still crossed, and she figured his legs were too, but that frightening look in his eyes was erased as if it was only a sketch.

He was able to tell that she was still confused. That she didn't know what to think. He wanted her to know what she wanted, but not what she needed.

"Would you care to leave the two of us alone, Gleason?" Rob's deep voice was heard for the first time, his eyes not leaving her figure.

Not happy, Kirk silently got up and exited through the door she walked in through.

Then Rob stood. Rory looked up at him. He was tall.

"You did nothing." He said, and her eyebrows creased with confusion.

"What?" She asked him, and he chuckled. His arms were crossed, still, even while standing.

"You seem like you're able to handle more than fashion shows." He said while examining her. She didn't know if to be flattered or afraid.

"I… I can." She muttered.

He nodded. His legs leaded him around the table and across the room, and she followed him, curious but not.

"I'd like to see what you could do." He said with his back to her, stopping, turning. "In my section. With your name."

She raised an eyebrow. That was… something new, something interesting. Something real, with substance. Something she would get recognized for. "I'm going to get credited?" She asked. It seems so foreign to her.

"I don't see why not." He retorted.

She crooked a small smile. One that she barely knew about. 

It was tempting. It was the real meaning of promotion. It was politics, only a few steps away from overseas matters. It was what she was looking for. She didn't hesitate. "I just say yes?" She asked, hopeful. "Would it be alright with Mr. Gleason?"

"If it wouldn't, I'll make it be." He said a little too quickly, a little too harshly. But it wasn't enough to keep her back. She found that feeling refreshing. She'll no longer be someone's puppet. And people would know her name. And she would love her job. Again, she wishes there was a way to silence her enthusiasm.

"In that case…" She took a deep breath, "I'm just saying yes." She said coolly, excitement in her eyes.

Rob suppressed a smirk, replacing it with a sole nod.

"I'll bring the papers by tomorrow." He said, heading for the door.

She watched him as he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

And she allowed herself to smile.


	15. 2004 Why Does it Always Rain on Me?

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled _"Mary Lou" _(only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better. The title is borrowed from a song by Travis. 

**A/N: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see. 

I just want to thank some people, because I finally have who to thank. But then again, almost no one reads this. So I'm dedicating this to everyone and to me, because it's my birthday. Yay me.

**Why Does it Always Rain on Me?**

**_2004_**

They were bored. Really, really bored. They were so bored. There were no two people more bored than they were at that moment.

That was the only logical reason why they came here. _Glitter._

It wasn't all that bad, though. Well, it was bad. But it wasn't like it was the first time they were there.

Lily has grown up. Her musical taste developed. Well, just a teeny tiny bit. Instead of sitting on the floor and wishing for their deaths, they sat near the bar and had one drink after the other. Actually, Jess did. Lane just settled for a breezer.

They didn't talk much. She didn't expect him to talk much. After all, it was a risk she knew she was taking when she chose Jess Mariano as a best friend. His presence was usually enough to make any setting enjoyable. But this time was different. _Two years ago_ kind of different.

She saw the look in his eyes. Every once in a while, she did. The distraction, that longing stare as he glanced at the entrance. She still remembered the day when they were there, and [I]_she_[/I] was, too. He promised that he was over her. Usually, she believed him. In times like these, she didn't.

But it… seemed like he was. They have hung out together a whole lot, and she enjoyed it, not only as his best friend. Small gestures like a hand around her shoulders, an honest smile or the most simple, innocent touch against her skin made her feel like maybe… he was opening up. To her. As more than a friend.

And then again, she often realized this is a dream that would never come true.

It was getting late. Not that late ever mattered to them. More correctly, it was getting boring. Slow.

He looked at her, waiting for her confirmation. She confirmed it with a look that he has already learned to recognize. Putting his cigarette out, he wiped his hands, then reached into his pocket to pull out some cash, leaving it on the counter. He then slipped off the bar stool and she followed.

They walked out, facing the warm air. Enjoying the silence, that was interrupted only by the slight sound of footsteps, Lane hoped he won't feel the need to light another cigarette. The air was perfect. But it never mattered to him.

But maybe this time it did.

He slipped his hands inside his pockets and looked up at the starry night skies. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, examining his thoughtful expression. Did she need to know what he thought of? No. She knew. But she felt obligated to dig deeper, even if it was against her wishes. That's what best friends are for, right?

"A penny for your thoughts?" She offered. He showed no reaction, and she lowered her head with slight disappointment. He wasn't even able to hear her.

But there was something in her that pushed. Hard. Something that asked her to do the right thing as a friend. Not as one who has romantic feelings. It was stupid to give up on your best friend just because you thought he was thinking of another girl. Best friend, she reminded herself. Best _friend._

She looked back up and nudges him slightly. It took him a second to look down at her, but it was better than nothing. He raised his eyebrows, asking for the motive to her actions with no words at all.

She let out a small chuckle. "Fine, two." She teased, although the odds of him understanding what she meant were negligible.

He chuckles anyway, shaking his head to show that he didn't understand. "What?" He asked, a small smirk plastered to his lips.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, her lips curving into a smile at the expression on her _friend_'s face.

He gave a small shrug in return, and his head titled back up. "Nothing much." He replied.

She sighed. That was Jess. At least he admitted there was something more than nothing in there. And again, she asked herself why she was doing this.

Then she looked up, trying to read his face yet again. Oh, yeah. That was why.

She reached to touch his shoulder, causing him to stop in his place. She quickly dropped her hand, impatiently waiting for Jess to look at her again.

His body turned to her direction, but his head wasn't. He was looking away. When he finally did look her way, it took her a few moments to stomach the annoyed expression on his face before he dared to look at her.

She pursed her lips together. Her throat produced a sound that could've been mistaken for either a chuckle, a sigh or a sound of defeat. 

"Come on." She said, trying to be harsh in the subtlest way she could. Although she really couldn't do harsh. She tried. Harsh wasn't her thing. The thought in her head was wearing her out, and she sighed. Shutting her eyes for a second to try and bring her thoughts to end, she found that the thoughts in her head were now more quiet, but she felt way more troubled. "Tell me." 

He turned his head away for the shortest period of time, although it was long enough for her to worry he was giving up again. He looked back at her, not knowing what to say. "What do you want me to say?" He asked, not wanting her to answer.

She shrugged at him with a small smile, one that was coming to cover for all that she was feeling. All those uncertain emotions that were flowing within her for no explainable reason. "Say anything." She offered.

What possible was he able to tell her? She didn't want to hear what he was thinking about. She shouldn't. It was just his mind, and it was going crazy. Crazy with thoughts. Some of them were wrong, the others were more wrong. And then, a few moments before, when she interrupted his thinking process, he was slightly mad. It annoyed him. It annoyed him that she made him forget about it for long enough. Long enough for it to seem right.

It wasn't long ago when he was sitting inside his stepsister's club, looking at the entrance, remembering the days that it was still a bookstore and she walked through that door. Then he looked at the bar, recalling over and over how her voice was familiar. How he looked up and saw her. And then again, he saw it. And then again. And then, the her bottle as it met with the ground, which was loud even as nothing but a vague memory in his head, shook him out of the daze he was in. And then he saw Lane sitting next to him at the bar. And he realized that this was what he had. And just like in every other time Lane was there, when she was by his side as they passed the bus station where he said goodbye to Rory for the second time after they met. The memories were getting vaguer and vaguer every time he passed by one of the places that reminded him of her. And when they faded and he saw Lane still being there, still next to him, still putting out with him… he realized that it wasn't bad. That maybe he'll finally manage to convince himself of what he was trying to convince her. She was always looking at him, always smiling.

And now. Now, she was looking at him, expecting anything. Her words. She wanted him to say anything. But she knew he wasn't one to open up. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. And even if he could, he wouldn't want to. But there she was. Not annoyed, not disappointed, smiling even though he was being an idiot. She was a friend. She was the best thing in his clouded world. She was always there. She was…

His hand raised carefully, the back of his palm lightly grazing her cheek before it settled on it. He saw her. He tried not to, but he did. She swallowed, hard, and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this. He had no idea what he was doing, but it was too late to stop. 

He leaned in, carefully. His thoughts were completely blurred, and he thought of nothing, simply because he didn't want to. He felt nothing. Nothing, until he felt her lips on his. Until a few seconds after, when he was able to feel the tension melting and the heat rising, as he felt her lips moving against his own. Until not only his thoughts, but his actions, were completely blurred. Until all the wrongs seemed even more wrong than they were – they finally seemed completely right.

She was sitting in her cubical. It wasn't an office, but she never expected an office. Or a cubical.

But it was nice. She even had her own plant standing on the desk.

She's been here for a few months. Here as in her new department. Her new writing job. One that didn't require studying animals' private parts. And she liked it. She really liked it.

She hasn't seen Rob – Mr. Cohen- since he hired her. Well, she saw him, but he had to go away on business a few days later. She made a mental note to thank him when she sees him again. 

She leaned back on her comfortable synthetic leather chair and looked around. She focused on her printer, printing. The noise of it working was the only noise occupying her. She had a special way of blocking all sounds around her, if it was shouting, phones or machinery. The ability to concentrate was nice. 

It was all nice. Even some of her co-workers weren't bad. Nice, even.

She was thinking. Thinking about what? About whatever came to mind. Her laundry – how she realized she mixed a few whites with her colors. Her next article. Her current article. Her former article. Her mom. Jess. The fact that she wore un-matching socks under her boots. Paris. College. Getting a cat.

Unnoticeably although right in front of her eyes, the pages stopped coming out. Her _talking_ printer informed her ignoring ears that her current printing job has been successfully completed.

The human voices around her were getting louder, too. Whispering, mostly. People were running around. People were completely panicking while Rory Gilmore was sitting in her chair, deep in thought, her void eyes staring at the printer.

A feminine figure came behind her. She, bending forward, rocked the chair she was sitting on, and Rory was no longer deep in thoughts. She was in her office, staring at a printer.

"Mr. Cohen's back!" The girl whispered in her ear, before making a run of it, over to another cubical. 

She looked back, following the figure with her eyes, frowned slightly. Looking back at her printer, she realized it finished printing. She dragged her chair forward and bended forward to collect the small pile of printed pages. She looked around while straightening her papers. Everyone seemed so hectic, so rushed, so panicked. Why was that?

Maybe because he was their boss, after all. But that was no reason for… was someone cleaning his clay figurines? 

She carefully stacked the papers in one of her paper holders, and then she pushed the chair back. Standing up, she straightened her jacket. Looking down, she was making sure she buttoned it correctly, not minding the fact that it's the sixth time she's done that since this morning.

She stood up and started making her way through the crowd. She tried to remember the correct way: Through the door, down the hall, third door to the left. She went over it again and again in her head before she actually stopped in front of it. 

The sign on the door confirmed that it was indeed the right office. She straightened her skirt, tucked some hair behind her ears and cleared her throat. Raising her head, she knocked on the door, then allowed her hand to drop behind her back, holding her other hand.

A "Yes?" coming from inside the room sounded inviting to her. She took a breath and pushed the door open.

She saw her boss, then, leaning against his desk, his eyes directed at a paper in his hands. She watched him. She was beginning to get nervous. Did she really just come here to… thank her boss? It all started to seem a little ridiculous to her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was a little confused about what was going to come out of it. Before she even managed to think about it, he looked up. Smirking slightly, he reached behind him – with the papers, placing them on the desk and leaving his hand there to support his weight. "Gilmore." He recognized, grinning.

She took a hesitant step forward, forcing a smile in return. "M…Mr. Cohen." She stuttered. Why was she nervous?

He moved away from his desk, towards the door she had left open. Holding it by the doorknob and walking forward, shutting it, he locked it before turning to face her. "What have I done to deserve your graceful presence?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Clearing her throat to try and making wear off, she forced herself to smile wider. She still felt the same. "I…" She started, swallowing, "I heard you were back and I… wanted to just say thank you." She said, then frowned at her poor phrasing of that very poor sentence.

He laughed unconvincingly. "You don't have to thank me." He said.

"But I do!" She insisted loudly, then took a deep breath to calm herself. Something was making her feel… strange. "I do." She repeated. "This was an amazing opportunity for me, and…" She sighed, shaking her head lightly. "Thank you." 

He smirked again. Remember that snake-ish thing about him? She was seeing it again. It took him a few seconds to reply as he walked a bit forward. Raising his hand to his chin, he rubbed it gently, nodding into it. "You really want to thank me?" He asked, his eyes peering right at her.

She narrowed her eyes with confusion. "Y…eah." She replied quieter, confused by his sudden change of behavior.

He smirked again. Viciously. He looked intimidating. "I know how you could thank me." He said. Slowly, staring at her with a terrifying gaze in her eyes, he started walking towards her.

Instinctively, she took a step back with every step he took forward. Her heard began beating faster, mostly with panic. Now she was panicking. Now.

Now she was panicking. When she realized she has no more space behind her, which would assist her to escape. Now, when she was pined against a desk, pressed hard against the small of her back.

Now, when he was pressed against her, making her back ache more. When she was frozen with fear, biting her lip, trying to keep tears from streaming out. When her voice wasn't working, when she wasn't able to move or save herself.

Now, when his hands were feeling her front, tearing her jacket open, violently ripping the buttons she was so worried about buttoning correctly.

Now, when she wanted to scream, but she couldn't.

Now she was panicking. And she was panicking a little too late.


End file.
